


101 Beasts

by Lightspeed



Series: Monstrous Intent [20]
Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Anal Sex, Biting, Blindfolds, Blood, Blood Drinking, Blow Jobs, Bukkake, Centaurs, Come Inflation, Come Marking, Come Shot, Comeplay, Condoms, Double Anal Penetration, Double Oral Penetration, Double Penetration, Excessive Amounts of Come, F/M, Faun!Scout, Fauns & Satyrs, Frottage, Hemipenes, Knotting, Large Cock, Large Insertion, M/M, Mirror Sex, Mirrors, Naga, Non-Human Genitalia, Oral Sex, Outdoor Sex, Rimming, Scratching, Snakes, Storytelling, Transformation, Undead, Vaginal Sex, Vampire Bites, Vampire Sex, Vampires, Werewolf!Demoman, Werewolves, gorgons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-29
Updated: 2014-09-14
Packaged: 2018-02-10 21:59:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2041749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lightspeed/pseuds/Lightspeed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fresh from a trip to Bangkok to visit his mates, Sniper entertains Scout with ribald tales he’s told the friends he’d just left behind, amusing his friend as he unpacks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sniper's first story is far from recent, but one he’s quite fond of. After all, it’s not often one gets taken out for dinner and then becomes dinner in the same evening.

"So I suppose the whole bats and black lace thing is just an unfounded stereotype, then?" Sniper asked, taking a sip of his wine. It was red, full-bodied with more tannins than he cared for, but for the sake of politeness, he tried to ignore the sharp, woody flavour and concentrate instead on the sharply dressed man sitting across from him.

He would've stood out anywhere but the upscale restaurant in which they sat, his perfectly pressed black slacks and waistcoat almost melding into the shadows cast by their table's candlelight. His tie, sanguine and standing starkly against his charcoal-grey shirt, was tied in an overly-complicated, layered knot that spoke to an inordinate amount of free time and experience in finding subtle ways to look striking without being the center of attention. His sensible, dark-rimmed glasses and dark brown hair added to the look, making his pale skin stand out just so.

Sniper couldn't help but appreciate how much he reminded him of Spy.

"Oh of course, nobody does that sort of thing anymore, except for those horror movie types. I mean humans, not us. None of us would come within miles of that old cliche. Except Vampira. You know, the woman from the television? She's one of us, you know. Personally I love the old girl but so many of the old guard just find her _dreadful_. Pretentious, really. Better the public believe that silliness than look for the demons where they actually dwell, right?" the man explained, swirling his glass of wine in his hand, never once taking a sip.

"Misdirection."

"Precisely," the man confirmed with a grin, his pointed canine teeth catching the light just so, making Sniper wonder if perhaps he'd practiced this little bit of theatrics as well.

He really reminded him of Spy. Idly, Sniper debated introducing the two, but worried that much pretense in one room might unravel reality.

"So how's this going to go, James?" the assassin asked, picking at the remnants of his dessert. It was some sort of chocolate cake, with fresh strawberries, almond slices, and a chocolate sauce that the menu referred to as 'lava'. A bare smear of brown and some stray pieces of almond pooled sloppily along one side of the plate, pushed into vague streaks with his fork. "Tonight, I mean."

"Of course," James smiled again. "After we're done, we'll retire to my hotel room. We'll take off our clothes, I'll have my dinner, and show you a night of passion you will not soon forget."

"I'm not going to lie, I'm still a bit uncomfortable with lettin' you feed from me."

"Please, Mundy, do you really take me for such a barbarian? Senseless murder is so old-fashioned, and only causes trouble. Even men who have no pasts and connections leave bodies, which need to be disposed of. That's a lot of work and a lot of mess. For what reward? Taking a life? That gets old. Drinking to overfull? Honestly, drinking that much makes me feel bloated and unclean and not a little bit lethargic. I'm not that sort of glutton. It's unseemly. Besides, it's far more fun to have a snack and ravish my companion, to leave both of us completely sated."

"You make a convincing argument."

"Isn't that why you asked me here in the first place?"

"Mm, too true."

 

*

 

"So did the two of you banter all freakin' night or did you actually get to fuckin'?" Scout asked, rolling his eyes and flopping back onto his teammate's bed.

"You see? This is why I don't tell you my stories, mate. You don't 'ave the attention span."

"Yeah well it's 'cause you tell the boring shit too! Get to the fuckin'!"

Sniper scowled, tugging a hamper over and beginning to unload the dirty clothes from his suitcase. The trip to and from Bangkok had been relatively short this time, mostly due to the proximity to the full moon. There were few things he'd cut his time in Thailand short for, but there was nothing that would make him miss Demoman's transformations. All the same, he'd found the time to meet with the usual friends in the usual place, and share his stories since the last they'd met.

He'd had quite a few stories to share.

 

 

"There's no way, no way in hell you've been that busy!"

"You're trying to tell us you work with a werewolf, a faun, a half-giant, a dullahan, AND a nascent wizard? You expect us to believe this?"

"Mundy you're full of shit!"

"Since you're on such good terms with them, maybe you'll bring one as proof next time?"

That last one had made Sniper wonder about Demoman for a moment, before realizing he would only be proof on a full moon, and loosing a werewolf on the city of Bangkok might not be the wisest decision. Scout, though...

Upon his return, he'd asked the faun if he'd be interested, and with an excited confirmation, he'd begun asking about exactly what they even _do_ when they meet up.

"We tell stories," Sniper had explained with a shrug. "About our different outings, our conquests, try to outdo one another with a mixture of difficulty, exotics, and showmanship."  
"Stories? Like how? Tell me one."  
"How about the time I shagged a vampire in a hotel room?"

 

 

"I'm getting there, if you'll be patient!" Sniper muttered, tugging off his hat and tossing it onto the rack standing by his dresser. It landed with practiced ease, setting the rack to wobbling slightly with the motion.

"Yeah, well all I'm gettin' so far is we should check Spy's teeth."

"Spy's not a vampire, I can assure you that."

"Oh yeah? How do you know that? We didn't have any clue Soldier was undead. Or that Demo was a freakin' werewolf. Or that Heavy was half-giant."

"You didn't have any clue about Heavy. It's pretty obvious if you know what you're lookin' for. Also you could literally walk up and ask him, 'Oi, Heavy, are you part giant or somethin'? Like literal giant?' and he'd nod and give you his whole family history. Bloke's proud of it."

"Yeah well most folks don't know to ask so I'm countin' it, okay? Anyway I'm just sayin' you never know. Apparently BLU likes hirin' monster dudes."

"I'm human. You were human. The Doc, Engineer, Spy, probably Pyro? All human. Technically BLU only hired three non-humans."

"Which is a third 'a the team! Plus, you fuck monsters, so you're kinda supernatural by association. Which makes almost half. An' then I go an' do this," Scout indicated his legs with a broad sweep of his arms, "an' suddenly lookit that it's half the team."

"BLU didn't know you'd go shag a satyr, mate."

"Didn't they?"

"What the bloody 'ell does that even mean?"

"Ahh," Scout shrugged and sat up, "I dunno I'm just kinda on a roll at this point. Either way, makes me wonder if there's others like us in this company, yanno? I mean, they certainly like hirin' dudes who like dick, enough."

"They go for people who're on the fringes of the fringes of society. Hired killers are outside, but homosexual hired killers are even further out," Sniper shrugged.

"I like women too, man! I just...kinda suck with 'em."

"It was a jab at meself, too, mate. You know I fancy sheilas."

"You like anythin' that'll say, 'yes'," Scout teased scratching at one fuzzy hock.

"Well not anythin'. Just most of 'em." Sniper chuckled and began tugging his toiletries from his bag, setting them on his dresser.

"So what happened? With the vampire, I mean."

"Oh, right! You were bashin' my bloody ears so long I nearly forgot," the assassin muttered. "Right, so, like I was sayin' before I was so _rudely_ interrupted..."

"Jeez."

 

*

 

"Absolutely stunning," James breathed, running his hands over Sniper's naked shoulders, fingers tracing the scars there with interest. His fingers moved rhythmically inside of the Australian's ass, curling and scissoring, preparing him for the delights to come. "What's this scar from, if you don't mind me asking?"

Sniper gasped and shuddered, trying to find his voice amidst the mounting fuzziness of his mind. "Course not." He licked his lips and squeezed his eyes shut. "That one there's from a tussle I 'ad with a cougar what stumbled on my hidin' spot durin' a job. 'e didn't take so kindly to my presence, and I didn't take so kindly to being mauled by a cougar."

James chuckled at Sniper's matter-of-fact story. "I had expected some other denizen of the night, honestly."

"Oh I've got other scars with more interesting stories than that one. Will I be gaining one more tonight?"

"Only if you ask," the vampire hummed, settling in against the Australian's back. He slipped his hand out of the human against him, warm skin vibrant against his pale, cool flesh. Sniper whined at the loss, but was soon placated by the return of cool skin in his warmest of places, this time of a far girthier calibre. "Are you ready?"

"Please," the bushman gasped, quickly rewarded as James slowly pushed inside, chilling him and sending shudders through his lanky body. A moment later, a soft prick shot through his neck, followed by a warm tingle that made his groin throb. His muscles went limp, his body slumped, and he found himself unable to struggle or move. James began to slowly thrust as his fangs sank into the rangy assassin, pressing his open mouth to Sniper's skin to suck at the blood that began to well and run from around his teeth.

Sniper's vision went blurry, his eyes refusing to focus. His breathing grew slow, deep, like a man at the apex of a long, satisfying night's sleep. As his heart rate slowed, his body surrendered entirely, laying there on his side a useless heap, euphoria subsuming his mind and leaving him aglow with sensation and serentiy.

He felt amazing. A comfortable coolness against his naked skin, the constant motion of hips grinding against his own, the plunge and retreat of James' cock deep within him, filling him with his undead flesh, just below room temperature and delightfully chilly in the heat of his insides.

James held the assassin's leg aloft, snapping his hips to drive in as far as he could get, suckling small mouthfulls of the bushman's blood. Its metallic tang slid down his tongue and throat, warmth spreading within him, filling him and bringing life to the dim chugging of his unliving form. Heat spread down through him as the blood made its way to his belly, reaching out like tendrils and awakening every nerve in his body in a gradual ripple that had him moaning against Sniper's warm neck. He was at once nourished and drugged by the liquid he drank, fresh claret to make his mind swim and his body blaze with rapture. He was at peace, yet chased the sensation like a predator after prey, each thrust, each swallow, enveloping all of his senses in a rosy glow that tore away the centuries of carefully crafted pretense he wore like a shroud. His moans and whines filled the room to accompany the squeak of bedsprings, drowning out Sniper's deep, restful, blissed-out breaths and quiet contentment.

James filled Sniper, bucking into him needily, filling him and sending rolling waves of pleasure coursing through him, throbbing from his haunches and sparking along his spine. He dimly wished he could cry out, moan, gasp, anything, to express how good it felt. He always hated holding back, and now, he didn't even have anything to hold. He could do nothing but lay there and take it, a strangely erotic, if a bit disconcerting sensation. With how hard the vampire was putting it to him, he felt almost rude being unable to whimper in appreciation.

It was James who came first, his cold seed, lifeless fluid that existed only as a physical courtesy blooming inside the bushman, chilling him and making his eyes roll back with the stranse sensuality of it. He growled and whined, keening softly against Sniper's neck as he took one final gulp, the largest he'd taken, filling his mouth and running down his throat to make him shudder with aftershocks until he was finally spent. He gingerly pulled his teeth from Sniper's neck, fangs slipping out, leaving a soft trickle in their wake, which he laved his tongue over softly, making clots form.

As if suddenly reconnected to his mind, Sniper let loose a cry, whining as the vampire continued his assault on his ass, the cool liquid inside him only making his slide slicker as he pounded into him. The pleasure that had welled in him, subsuming his body and mind, sending him into a dreamlike torpor, had all come crashing in, flooding to his groin with the crushing weight of a waterfall. His pleasure was no longer vague and ephemeral, but visceral, colliding into sudden, acute corporeality. Pressure welled in his gut, slithering low to make his pelvic floor tense. Seizing control of his body once again, he took hold of his cock, tugging at it desperately, rocking with the force of James' thrusts.

He came loudly, howling and sobbing and quaking as he messed his hand and the sheets, his legs going stock straight, the rest of his body crumpling in on itself until, spent, he drew his legs up, leaving himself in the fetal position, his cold-skinned lover petting gently at his shoulders as he cuddled up close to him.

Brushing at Sniper's hair, suddenly sticky with the abrupt sweat that hat formed on his skin, James grinned, the saliva clinging to his teeth still slightly tinged with the colour of his blood. "Are you alright?"

"Aces," Sniper sighed, dizzy and shaking, overstimulated and overwhelmed. "That sort of thing happen every time you bite a bloke?"

"It causes the euphoria and disconnect, yes. It allows me to feed without a fight and accidentally tearing some poor soul's throat out," James explained, nuzzling into his moist hair where it curled upward at the base of his skull. "Unless I intend to, of course."

Sniper snorted softly, "S'pose I should be glad you don't intend to, then?"

"Why would I, when I can fuck you into a puddle on a hotel bed instead?"

"True, that."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sniper’s second story is of a creature far stranger than the first, a dalliance staged during the team’s roadtrip, while in Greece. Sniper had never been one for blindfolds and sensory deprivation, but certain hazards become very present when one tries to bed a gorgon.

"Shit, man, that's... that's fuckin' hot," Scout marveled, staring wide-eyed at Sniper as he zipped up his empty suitcase and kicked it under the bed.

"Was a pretty fun time," the bushman admitted, plopping down onto the bed beside his teammate. "James is a nice bloke. Ended up settin' 'im up with one of my mates from the story circle. 'e stopped showin' up not long after that, and last I 'eard, the two of 'em shacked up and 'ave a serious thing goin' on. Never figured James for the settlin' type, but I suppose for him it's not so long term a commitment as it is for a human bloke. Either way, it's rather sweet."

"Wait so the vampire an' a human guy're goin' steady? Seems kinda weird, what with one kinda bein' food for the other."

"It sort of is. Apparently 'e's got a rare blood type, so James fancied him as delicious," Sniper laughed. "But 'e does care for the bloke. They're surprisingly good together."

"Huh. Waddaya know."

"That sort of thing 'appens more than folks would 'ave you believe, mate."

"Well I figure, what with you and Demo," Scout teased, a sly grin crossing his lips.

"It's not like that, and you know it," the bushman snapped, slouching. He bobbed with a short, single, silent chuckle, more rueful than amused. His eyes flicked to the floor, and Scout realized maybe he should lay off those jokes for a while.

"So, uh, any other good stories?"

"I could write a book, mate."

"Oh yeah that'd be a hell of a read. A Monster Fucker's Diary."

"One Hundred-One Beasts and How to Shag Them."

"By Mick Mundy. Pfft, yeah I can see that on the bestseller's list, definitely. Oh yeah," Scout nodded, laughing.

"But yeh, I've got a few, if you've got the time."

"Pssh, yeah! What else am I gonna do with my day? Already unpacked all my stuff from furlough, already hit the gym this mornin', already bent Medic over a gurney, already had lunch. My date book's clear."

"Well get comfortable, then. But, er, watch the hooves on my bed, yeh? I don't want to 'ave to drive into town for a new mattress today because you ripped it open."

"Yeah, yeah, calm yourself, old man," Scout dismissed, laying back and gingerly keeping his hooves off of the bed.

"Right. So here's a story that might interest you. 'appened while you were nursing your wounds in the bus after the transformation."

"You went off an' got laid while I was laid up?"

"You were sulking, and I'm not obligated to drag you along when I fancy a shag in hopes you'll catch one too. I'm not your bloody wingman."

"Sounds like you kinda are if I come to Bangkok with you," Scout grinned. "Unless there's a strict, 'no bangin' my weird monster-fetishist buddies' rule I ain't aware of."

"Wouldn't dream of it, mate," Sniper grinned. "Anyway, as I was sayin', you're not the only one who's 'ad himself a good time when we were in Greece..."

 

*

 

Sniper looked down at the strip of cloth laying across his palm, dangling down either side and gently brushing his forearm as it swayed in the ambient breeze of the cavernous temple in which he stood. The sea carried on the wind, creeping in through windows and archways, tickling his nose with a salty chill. The crash of waves echoed off of ancient, sun-bleached marble, filling his senses with water. "You're sure this'll keep me safe?"

"Of course, hunter. Don't you trust me?"

Sniper looked up into the mirror he faced, at the face peering around his side, too short to see over his shoulder. A lovely face smiled back at him, swarthy and feminine with a distinctive nose and bright, luminous eyes, that seemed to shift in colour as he looked into them, slowly curving into a gentle spiral if he stared long enough. Framing that face, green serpents writhed about, curling about amongst one another and along shoulders and neck. She strained up onto her tip-toes, one strap of her white dress falling off a shoulder as her belt tried to hold it in place against her craning form. She was not a short woman by any means, but entirely dwarfed by the lanky assassin, who looked into the mirror to see her as they spoke. After all, looking into a gorgon's eyes would spell his end.

"I'm trustin' you well enough do be willin' to do this in the first place, yeh? Just, understandably paranoid, y'see. Self-preservation and all. None of my mates with me know 'ow to treat stoneflesh, and I don't quite fancy being cargo until they found someone who can."

"Considering how polite you've been—respectful, even—I would be some sort of monster if I were to doom you like that," the gorgon reasoned, shaking her head and letting the snakes that made up her hair bob and hiss discontentedly at the sudden motion. Her eyes went wide as she realised what she'd said. "I mean, I sort of _am_ a monster, but that's not what I meant! I assure you!"

Chuckling at her stumbling attempt at reassurance, Sniper lifted the blindfold to his eyes, plucking the hat off of his head and setting it atop the mirror. He tied the strip of fabric tight, adjusting it to be sure his vision was blotted out. He turned, smiling, and held a hand out. The room wasn't too large itself, containing merely the mirror, a dresser, night stand, and a twin-sized bed with some rumpled, unmade sheets, but nonetheless, the assassin would rather be led to the bed rather than haltingly stumble while blinded. It couldn't be a particularly erotic sight to watch a gangly Australian trip over things.

The gorgon took his hand, giggling a little as he gave hers a squeeze, and led him to the bed, stopping him at its foot and turning him around. She ran her hands over his shoulders and down, over his slim chest and belly, to his belt, which she unbuckled with unpracticed, halting hands.

Sniper's brows lifted, and he quickly set to unbuttoning his shirt, tugging it free where it was tucked into his trousers, baring his flesh to the creature before him, who finished opening his pants and shoved them down, letting him kick them and his shoes off before shoving him backward onto the bed. The assassin landed with a soft, "Oof," silenced as he heard the soft flutter of fabric and felt warm flesh against his own. The gorgon climbed atop him, pressing her nude body to his, letting her hands wander through the hair of his chest, her nose and lips nuzzling through in their wake. She shuffled upward, brushing his growing erection with her belly, letting it settle between her thighs as she came to straddle his hips, face above his own. He could feel her breath, shallow and quick with anticipation, puffing lightly against his chin. He smiled broadly. "Do I pass inspection?"

"It's been," she gulped, diving back down to nose through Sniper's chest hair, "it—it's been a long, long time."

"What I was allowed to see, makes it surprisin'. You're a beautiful woman, Eudora."

"Yes, but I'm a beautiful straight woman whose species is entirely women. You see my problem, Mundy."

"Well 'opefully I can 'elp solve it for a bit, yeh?"

The gorgon, Eudora, smiled against Sniper's chest, sighing. "Thanks."

"No. Thank you," Sniper grinned, shivering a little as he felt the soft flicker of serpentine tongues ghosting along his shoulders and neck.

Eudora laughed, a high, soft giggle, as she lifted herself up onto her hands and craned over the bushman, bringing their faces together, and letting her nose gently brush his own. He arched up to kiss her, but she pulled away, darting to the side to sneak a quick bite to his ear, laughing at the light gasp that rewarded her. "Those are sensitive?"

"Yeh, very."

"Hmmmm..." her lips pressed to the shell of his ear, humming gently against his flesh with the vibration of her voice. Insistent pressure at the junction of her thighs informed her how well she was already doing, the assassin having grown to full-attention quickly. Her hair, the nest of snakes that grew from her head, teased at Sniper's face, tongues flickering lightly at his nose, lips, and eyelids to taste him, to get a scent and a sense of him.

Dimly, he wondered if they were possessed of their own minds, or whether they just acted in reflex of her own thoughts. Either way, the smooth scales curling under his stubble-clad chin sent delicate shivers through his shoulders.

Eudora's tongue was far warmer, far larger, far wetter, and far more helpful than those of her squamous locks, and as it began to trace the edge of Sniper's ear, sent warmth, rather than chills, running through him. His breath loosed in soft panting, heat pooling in his gut and throbbing between his legs, his cock pressing eagerly against the gorgon's pubic mound. His arms wrapped around her curvaceous form, one hand resting at her back, rubbing slow, jerky circles as the other held her thick hip and pet at her with its thumb.

When she left his ear, left it tingling and cooling in the gentle breeze, he sighed, letting a deep breath enter and leave. When she began to shimmy down his body, pressing soft kisses to his chest and belly as she went, dragging his cock against her warm skin, he quickly sucked in a new breath and held it tight. Sniper had no idea her intentions, but he had a pretty good idea where this was going.

He could hear a little better, unable to see and given less to concentrate on. He could hear the gentle hisses of Eudora's hair. He could hear her quickened breathing, the blood rushing in his ears, his own rapid heartbeat, and in a blissful moment of clarity, the light smack of the gorgon's mouth opening before his cock was engulfed in its wet heat.

"Haaaaahhhh!" the bushman gasped, trying not to arch up. The last thing he wanted to do was make this difficult for her, and giving into the temptation to snap his hips and fuck her mouth would definitely up the challenge level of this encounter a bit. It might be harder for him as well, getting his dick bitten off by an angry gorgon. "Shit!"  
With a contented hum, Eudora set to work, slowly taking more of him in until she reached a comfortable depth, about halfway down. She perched on her elbows and belly, and let her tongue begin to roll, undulating against Sniper's underside with slow, easy strokes that had his belly rising and falling in shallow ripples. She watched with interest; his torso, peachy, scarred skin carpeted with soft, dark hair rising and falling like the tides in a storm. She let her tongue flicker beneath his foreskin, tracing the edge of his crown, and listened to him hiss. Her hair echoed the sentiment, questing about, tasting and smelling and nosing at his thighs and belly, a few electing to wrap around his wrist as he brought one hand down to rest at her shoulder.

Sniper's head fell back to the bed, and he realized he'd been holding it up, his spine stock-straight for a few rapt moments, unable to process anything but the intense heat and pressure of Eudora's soft lips and wonderful mouth. Now, the smooth scales were back, writhing around his wrist and climbing his forearm to lick at its smooth, sensitive underside. A few more snakes joined the first, taking hold of his arm and wrenching it—with surprising strength—away from the gorgon's shoulder. The serpents lifted his hand, letting it settle atop her head, amongst the snakes. They coiled around his wrist and arm, holding it there, rubbing themselves against him like a loving pet, like a cat bunting its owner, noses tickling through the dark hair that stood out from his flesh and tasting where it did not. Sniper felt his chills return, making his insides churn and his mind grow dim. Her hair, a collection of snakes growing from her very body, had taken hold of him and was now showering him with affection even as she showed a different sort of fondness using her mouth and the undulations of her devilish tongue. When one hand began to cup his balls and roll them across her fingers, it all became too much, too fast.

"Stop, stop."

"Hm?" Eudora hummed in question, ceasing her movements but keeping his cock in her mouth. She peered up at him questioningly in spite of the fact that he couldn't see it.

"I'm goin' to come if you keep at it, love. You're too good at that."

With a slurp that sent a pang of lust straight to his balls, the gorgon pulled off, her hair unwrapping from around his wrist to allow her the movement. "Thank you! But yeah I suppose we don't want that yet. Do you have condoms?"

"In my trousers, rear left pocket," the marksman instructed, going boneless on the bed once he was alone in his sensations. He tried to catch his breath, wiping at the light sweat beginning to collect on his brow. It was a shame he couldn't watch her as she was sucking, really. Such a pretty face, to see her lovely lips wrapped around his cock...

It was actually probably better that he hadn't seen that, if just the action had brought him to the edge so quickly.

A quick plastic crinkling was all the warning Sniper received, gasping when he felt a warm hand slide down his cock, rolling a freshly unwrapped condom down his length. Eudora tugged at the bottom a few times to be sure it was secure before climbing atop the bushman, straddling his hips.

"Ready?"

"Please," was all Sniper could say, cut off as she positioned herself and began to sink down, enveloping him in heat and driving the rest of the air from his lungs in a needy wheeze.

Eudora giggled again, this time slower, breathier, chased by a sigh and hands petting along the assassin's belly as she settled, taking him to the root and relishing the feel of being so full. "Oh, Goddess."

Calloused hands found their way to her hips, rubbing slow circles with his thumbs as she straddled Sniper, speared on his length and unready to move, no matter how much he wanted her to. Instead, she continued petting through his body hair, laughing a bit as he gently tried to urge her into motion with light tugs.

"Want something?"

"Maybe just a bit," the bushman grinned, lifting his head a bit.

"Like this?" she asked, rolling her hips, feeling him slip out and back in with an easy slide. He filled her out just right, making her whine lightly at the sensation. Sniper echoed the sound, eyes rolling back beneath lids and blindfold, her body clinging to him and squeezing him greedily. When she did it again, he bit his lip. Soon, she was picking up speed, a steady rhythm, and Sniper was sucking his breaths through his teeth and holding her tight as she rode him, one hand sifting through his chest hair, the other slipping off to support her body, pushing into the mattress beside his ribs.

Eudora moaned, breathy and low, rocking back and forth as she thrust onto the assassin's cock, slick and eager and brushing her just right with each ingress, sending ripples through her middle to collect along her spine, to warm her guts and make her salivate as she squeezed her eyes shut tight. Her hair hissed and reached, stretching down to tease at Sniper with questing, flicking tongues, sniffing along his chin and neck, nipples and lips. He rolled his hips to match, lifting to meet her and withdrawing as she rocked forward, making each stroke longer, deeper, driving more soft sounds from her throat, making her shudder with the electric swell of being impaled intimately.

Sniper growled, snapping up to meet Eudora with each grind, hungry, relishing the delicious heat that engulfed him and wracked him with ecstasy. Her lips fell to his chest, sucking gently at one nipple, her serpentine hair bunting smooth scales against his jaw like a clowder of plastic kittens, making loud bristly scratching sounds against his stubble. Small tongues teased his ear, drawing whimpers from the assassin that grew louder as teeth began to gently scrape the sensitive skin of his now-erect nipple.

"Shit," the gorgon hissed, laughing a bit, lifting herself to allow her eyes to greedily take in his screwed-up face. His cheeks were flushed, his nostrils flaring, his brow furrowed as the blindfold moved with light flutters of his eyelids. His mouth was slightly parted, tongue darting out to wet his lips between short, rough pants. She tried to focus enough to commit the sight to memory, but concentration was difficult each time Sniper bucked upward.

"Wish I could see your face," the bushman growled, prompting Eudora to wonder if he could read minds.

"You would die, and I would be humping a statue," the gorgon bemoaned, slowing her pace to something a bit more leisurely.

"Maybe not."

"What do you mean?"

"That mirror we used to talk; if we bring it over to the bed, maybe I can watch you using it. Take you from behind?"

Without an answer, Sniper felt the bed bow, and suddenly all of that warmth, that heat, that beautiful body atop his was gone. The soft slapping of bare footfalls echoed low against the floor as Eudora retreated, returning with strained grunting, and the careful clink of metal upon the marble tile. Warm hands returned to Sniper, taking him by the shoulders, urging him to sit up, then untying the blindfold and pulling it away.

Sniper blinked, light returning to his eyes and making them ache with blurry vengeance. Disuse had left him accustomed to shadow, and as the sun returned to the pale orbs, he found himself rubbing at them with his knuckles to toughen them up. He blinked a few more times, clearing moisture to peer forward, where he saw the long mirror from before perched in front of the foot of the bed, reflecting him in lurid clarity.

He was a sight, flushed and sweaty with a rubber on his painfully hard cock, one nipple erect and slightly red from attention while the other half-heartedly attempted to match. He looked to the creature standing behind him, nude and blushing, a delicate green cast to her cheeks where there would have been pink, were she not one of Athena's chosen cursed. Her breasts hung with a gravity befitting a size slightly smaller than their own, rounded and appealing to the eye, with green-tinted nipples. Her belly was soft, a slight paunch standing out and adding depth to her shape which continued down to wide hips and thighs. Feeling that body had been amazing; seeing made it even better. The bushman found himself better able to appreciate just how inhuman the gorgon was, with the verdant hue of blood beneath her flesh. Her hair hung lazily around her shoulders, slithering about idly in unrestful anticipation, and between her thighs, a triangular patch of green scales drew his eye down to the warmth he yearned to return to.

"You're beautiful," he breathed, looking to her face in the mirror and seeing her smile softly.

"You keep saying that."

"Now that I've seen more of you, it only confirms it, love."

"You keep talking like that, I'll keep you here with me, Mr. Mundy."

"Don't tempt me," he teased.

"Oh, I'm tempting you." Eudora crossed in front of the marksman, climbing onto the bed, careful to face away from him. "Move up, I need room."

Sniper did as he was told, moving out of the way and sitting on his heels, rolling his balls in one hand as he watched the gorgon climb onto her hands and knees, facing the mirror. He let his gaze fall lower, tracing the lines of her back, where green-hued markings mimicked the pattern of scales along her flesh, leading from the base of her skull to her iliac crest. Her ass was round and thick, and her pussy, flushed and wet and presented for him, looked beautifully welcoming. He bit his lip and moved in, placing a palm on the small of the gorgon's back. "Ready?"

"Please," Eudora echoed with a smile, wiggling her bottom.

Sniper watched her face as he entered, holding his cock steady with one hand until he dipped inside, moving both hands to hold those wide hips as he pushed in. It contorted in ecstasy, her eyes squeezing shut, her nose scrunching up, nostrils flared. Her mouth fell open, then twisted into a grimace of pleasure. When Sniper stalled, immersed to the hilt, she let out a gasp, her expression changing to plaintive and needful. The bushman licked his lips, relishing the lovely sight. A pretty face screwed up so happily was worth the risk. He lamented not being able to witness it when she was atop him.

Eudora rocked back against Sniper to get him moving, and he acquiesced, bucking forward and beginning a rhythm, setting a hard, hungry pace, keeping his eyes on her face as she moaned and shuddered. Each stroke caught her in ways that made shivers run from the tips of her toes to the noses of her hair, which danced about and arched back to lick at the air between them and Sniper, eager for touch they could not reach. The slap of flesh resonated through the marble bedroom, accompanied by the assassin's quiet grunts and the gorgon's ecstatic groaning.

Leaning down, Eudora brought an arm forward to fold beneath her head, resting her chin on her forearm as it braced her against the mattress. Her other arm shot beneath her, reaching back between her legs, fingers splaying on either side of her labia to feel Sniper's cock sliding between them, slipping in and out of her pussy and dragging with it the amazing slickness that had formed there. She couldn't recall the last time she'd been so aroused, or overjoyed. He was pounding into her, filling her, over and over, driving into her with hunger and desire, pleasing her. It had been so, so long since the last time she'd convinced a man not to fear her, to take her to bed, to make her feel beautiful. Her fingers slipped down to the hot, erect nub of her clit, swollen and sensitive. She began to rub; slow at first, quickly speeding to match the frenzied thrusts Sniper put to her, making her shudder and whine, watching him fuck her with abandon as heat and pressure began to build to a climax.

Sniper growled, leaning forward and snapping his hips hard, dragging Eudora back onto his dick with each thrust in, the slap of their skin making his hips sting and his mind go foggy as he plunged into the warm depths of the gorgon in front of him. She looked like she was barely holding on, biting her lip, hand moving fast between her thighs, brushing his cock as he slid in and out, making her clench around him as she pleasured herself. He wanted to come so badly, biting it back, staving it off as best he could even as he watched her face contort in such lovely ways. He wanted to make her come. He gripped hard, letting his blunt nails dig into Eudora's smooth flesh, and it was all she needed.

Her cry was muffled by her arm, eyes still wide, watching Sniper as she groaned and shuddered, her body convulsing in waves that washed through her in heat and electric tingles. She felt her pelvic floor fluttering and squeezing at the cock inside her, still pounding away to ride through her orgasm. Each new thrust drove another tide to ripple through her, until finally she had spent herself and was left sensitive and shivering as Sniper continued to fuck. It wasn't long after that the assassin finally allowed himself release, bucking forward and stalling inside her, throbbing and groaning as he filled the condom with his seed.

Finished, Sniper sank away from Eudora, laying back on the bed as the gorgon collapsed in a sated heap in front of the mirror. She smiled to Sniper's reflection, the bushman propping himself up with pillows against the headboard.

"Thank you, Mundy," she panted, green-faced and nearly glowing with contentment.

"Thank _you,_ Eudora," the bushman echoed, gingerly tugging the condom from his softening cock and tying it off. "You alright?"

"Amazing," she moaned, squirming a bit, still reeling in light aftershocks. "You're sure I can't convince you to stay?"

"Wish that I could, love, but I've got a contract. Plus, there's someone..."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Scout wonders if Sniper’s ever done something blatantly dangerous, or known someone who had, the assassin mentions a friend who once tried and failed to safely bed a centaur. Scout is horrified, but Sniper has a personal story a little more successful.

"Someone?" Scout asked, conspiratorially. He knew exactly who that someone was, but hearing Sniper admit it, that was something.

For his part, Sniper tried his best to look unfazed at what had left his mouth in the heat of his storytelling. "I didn't want to break it to the poor sheila that I wasn't interested in anythin' serious, mate," he lied, scratching at a sideburn. "She was lonely, and quite fetching, and honestly if I were lookin',  _which I'm not_ ," he emphasized, leaning into Scout's personal space, "she wouldn't be far down the list of choices. Hopin' to find someone to fix 'er up with eventually. Such a sweet girl shouldn't 'ave to live alone like that."

"Maybe hook 'er up with a blind dude? Wouldn't have to worry about the whole stone thing, then."

"Maybe," Sniper nodded.

Stretching his shoulders, Scout hummed in thought, "So, like, you end up gettin' hurt on these a lot? Like, I mean, aside from that time with Bigfoot. 'Cause you take a hell of a lot 'a risks with all 'a these monster-people, man. Vampire could just suck you dry. Gorgon could turn you to stone."

"Well 'course, I been injured a few times. It's what helps make it excitin'."

"But I mean, even on a physical kinda level, some 'a these guys you been with are enormous! I've seen Demo. I've _taken_ Demo. Have you ever gotten hurt tryin' to do shit like that? Or, just, not been able to try?"

"Friend of mine, Jarvis, ended up hospitalized, once. Poor bloke nearly died, actually."

"Wha—how? What did he do?"

"A centaur."

"Like, a half-man, half-horse centaur?"

"That's what a centaur is, yeh."

"Holy shit that'd, like, spear a guy clear through!"

"If 'e was an idiot and tried to take the whole thing or didn't set boundaries with the centaur first, yeh. And, that's what 'e did."

"That's crazy! That's suicidal! What kind of dumbass would try an' have sex with a centaur?"

"Well..."

 

 

*

 

If Demoman knew what Sniper was up to, he'd murder him.

Sniper knew as much when he'd headed out under the guise of getting lost in town for a while. He'd asked the Scot if he'd wanted to join him, of course. He'd been hoping for solitude but was content with the idea of company and motivation to actually wander the streets and take in the local sights and tastes in the small Greek town in which they'd stopped. Not like spending a day pounding ouzo with the handsome bomber would have been a tragedy.

But Demoman had other plans. Namely, hitting the nearest, rowdiest bar alongside Soldier and seeing how long it would take before their special brand of trouble got them ejected. Then finding another bar and repeating the process.

It sounded fun, Sniper had to admit, but not his kind of fun. Too rowdy, too bombastic. He was good with people, and a surprisingly good talker sometimes, but there was a certain level of mayhem that the assassin could handle, and the line he drew was several miles away from the one blasted into the landscape whenever Demoman and Soldier decided to raise hell.

Which suited him fine. He loved to spend time with the bomber, but just as Demoman needed the stimulation of occasional havoc, Sniper needed his own ways to recharge. Instead, he decided to head out on his own to make his own sort of trouble.

And trouble it was.

'Tavish is gonna 'ave my 'ead, 'e finds out' Sniper thought, swallowing thickly as he beheld the beautiful creature before him. 'If I survive.'

Standing a good seventeen hands tall before him, a playful smile on lips circled with a short, black, well-kept beard, a centaur was playfully shucking off his belts and bandoliers, dropping weapons and supplies to the sparse, scrubby grass. He had dark, ruddy skin with freckles dotting his shoulders, and long, dark hair that fluttered free and unfettered in the breeze. Muscular and hairy, he cut a rakish, wild, alluring figure, brought majestic by the proud lines of his equine undercarriage. Bay fur caught the sun in ripples as his muscles flexed with every movement, his long, dark tail lashing idly about. With dark eyes he regarded the gangly human in front of him, still amused how easily he'd tracked down his tribe's hunting grounds, and how brazen the assassin had been about propositioning the lone hunter.

It was too bad the rest of his tribe wasn't around. Centaurs loved a good revel, and what better revel than shagging a willing human silly? Maybe if there were booze involved. And a feast. Perhaps some music.

Sniper tried to push down memories of friends past. Those poor, foolish souls who thought themselves clever enough to bed a centaur and survive. And yet, here he was. A continent away from respawn, no Demoman to be his spotter, just him and Theron, the swarthy horse-man hybrid who was giving him bedroom eyes as he slowly approached the Australian standing nude in his hilltop stomping grounds.

This was the dumbest idea he'd ever had. And watching as Theron relaxed and let slip the mighty appendage that swung free beneath him, bowing under its own weight even as it grew thick and hard with blood, Sniper began to panic. He'd come up to the centaur cocksure and full of swagger. He took a werewolf monthly, what was to worry? He knew better. He knew what kind of anatomy he was up against, but he'd let his excitement, his ego get the better of himself.

"So, Mundy, you're sure you want to go through with this? Not many's the human who can lie with a centaur and survive. And I'm certainly no slouch," the horse-man chided, tail lashing in anticipation.

Sniper was no young thing, entering into human middle age with surprising grace, and Theron wondered if he was spry enough for this to be wise.

Well, it certainly wasn't wise under any circumstances, but perhaps wisdom was relative.

Sniper stepped to meet Theron, hands finding their way to his hips, fingers tracing where fur met flesh. "Sure as I'll ever be," he murmured, running his tongue along his lower lip, canting his head up to urge the taller man to close their distance.

Theron obliged, leaning down to claim the human's lips in a rough, hungry kiss, one hand gripping the hair at the back of Sniper's head and curling into a tight fist to hold him in place. It had the desired effect, making the bushman groan against his tongue, holding him closer, bringing their bodies together, his hardening cock pressing into the short, wiry fur of Theron's lower chest.

Sniper was so ready; it was almost cute to Theron just how into this he was. The assassin's broad hands pet eagerly at the fur of his hips and equine shoulders, relishing the disconnect between kissing a man and feeling a horse, knowing they were component parts of the same handsome creature.

Theron's free hand wandered, petting at the fluffy, straight hair that coated Sniper's chest and belly, fingers lingering against his nipples, his hips, his shoulders. He broke their kiss to nip at his neck, making the bushman gasp and arch up. His hand danced lower, cupping Sniper's cock against his fur and petting slowly at it. He smiled against the human's skin as he gasped, rutting against him, between hot hand and smooth fur.

"It sounds like you're half-ready to go off already. Is this your thing? My people?"

Sniper groaned, "It's more _not my people_. You're a person who's not human, mate. I like that in a bloke."

"Know what I like in a bloke?" Theron hummed, tracing the straining tendons in Sniper's neck with his lips.

"What's that?"

"Me."

Theron released Sniper, grinning, hungry. With a shove he sent the assassin to the ground, landing in the cool grass with a grin. He watched those narrow blue eyes move down his body, following muscle and fur. They grew wide, full of trepidation as he gazed once again between the centaur's legs to what hung beneath him. Holy shit, that thing was enormous.

Sniper looked up to Theron, determined, and set to his task. He crawled forward, between his front legs, nuzzling against one furry hock as he went, until he was confronted with the centaur's overlarge, erect cock, hanging heavily before him like a weapon ready to fire. It was almost hilarious in a way, and he made sure to remind himself of the very humanoid lips he'd kissed moments before.

It was strange. Long, veiny, and thick. So, so long. Its head reminded him of Keltoor, the minotaur he used to shag on the occasion, flat-fronted and flared out around the head. It was like some kind of perverse sceptre, and he could feel the heat pouring off of the thing before he even set hands on it. With a gulp, Sniper wrapped one broad hand around the shaft, not far from the head, and began to gently pet back and forth.

He'd been with a lot of oversized phalluses, but never like this. He felt almost lost.

A quiet, low rumble of appreciation rolled through the centaur's chests. That mighty appendage stiffened, springing to attention under his touch, and Sniper knew he was on the right track. A second hand found its way to the colossal cock, and he began to stroke it in alternating, upward slides of his hands, petting as though he were trying not to anger a fussy cat, only moving in one direction, toward himself.

Theron stomped one hoof in encouragement, groaning under the attention, shuffling a bit, unable to touch or really see the handy human beneath him. "Yes, like that. Oh gods, those light touches will drive me mad!"

Chuckling, Sniper sped his strokes; a little stronger, a little more grip, tugging at Theron's flesh like he would his own. If his own were about the length and width of his arm, perhaps. Snuffling groans above him told the assassin he was doing well. He licked his lips, steeling himself, and leaning in, he let his tongue snake out to trace the head of the centaur's cock, lining its edges with hot saliva.

The reaction was instant. Theron nickered and stomped, cursing as Sniper, spurred on by this development, began to press broad, flat laps against the head. He tongued lightly at its opening before returning to bathing the whole crown in saliva.

"Fuck!" the centaur cried, wishing he could reach down and pet at Sniper in appreciation. When another of his kind blew him, he could usually bend to the side and stroke their flanks in gratitude. Instead he was left shuddering, gasping, nickering, with no idea what to do with himself as that tongue worked around he head of his cock, down a bit of its length, and back to the tip. He groped at himself, running hands up and down his chest and belly, clawing at his neck, pinching at his nipples. He grit his teeth and hissed and whined. By the gods, this human was good with his mouth.

Sniper lipped at the edge of his flared crown, sucking lightly and running circles with his tongue. Slowly, he worked more into his mouth, carefully taking more, more, until he'd stretched his jaw around the whole thing. He laved his tongue over its flat tip, sucking as much in as he could. The groans from above, the speeding breaths Theron's lower chest now heaved with, told Sniper that his inexperience with centaurs was proving little handicap. And in spite of his initial reservations, the painful throb of his too-hard cock told him he'd made a very good decision doing this. His hands worked double-time, tugging in tandem, working his shaft as he suckled and licked at the head, hearing Theron's nickers grow louder, more distressed, between curses and compliments in slurred, lust-drunk Greek.

Theron could feel his orgasm approach swiftly, surprising even himself. The heady perversion of a human sucking at his cock was a powerful aphrodisiac, and Sniper was so very, very good with his tongue. "I'm close," he practically growled, barely audible.

Sniper could feel the tension building. Equine muscle all around him flexed and grew tight. Dimly, he wondered what it would be like. He redoubled his efforts, lapping hungrily at Theron's head, hands flying over his immense length. His warning came too late as the centaur went tense and whinnied loudly in he same moment that he came, flooding Sniper's mouth with force enough to chase him from around it, to splash and splatter face, hair, neck, shoulders, and chest. He covered the smaller man in his seed, rolling in thick rivulets down belly and abdomen, off his shoulders and down his back. He could feel it dripping down his balls, the sensation alone nearly enough to bring him to the edge.

It reminded him of many long, full-mooned nights he'd spent with Demoman. Nights when the wolf would claim him and mark him, covering him over and over in his seed, hours of being a sticky, whimpering mess as the wolf fucked him and filled him and painted him in a possessive frenzy. He loved those nights.

Sniper wiped his eyes, swallowing the seed he managed to keep in his mouth. One hand cupped at his cock, aching, pressing it into the come slathering his belly and making him shiver.

Theron stepped away as Sniper released him, taking a look with hungry eyes at he semen-slathered human. "You wear that well, Mundy," he teased with low tones. "I hope a blow job isn't all you were after today."

With a shiver, palming at his balls with come-sticky hands, Sniper admitted, "Mate, I could take you, but I've known blokes who've tried that and ended up hurt or worse by centaur blokes not knowin' 'ow to take it easy on 'em. You'd skewer me through!"

"What if we work something out?" Theron asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"How so?"

"I brace myself against something, a rock, maybe, and use that to help control myself so I don't go too far? Or let you ride my cock, not buck into you?" The centaur shrugged. "I want more of you, Mundy. I want to be inside of you. I want to fill you with as much come as I've covered you with."

Sniper shivered. God, that was a disgustingly sexy thought. "Alright. Think you'll be back up once I prepare?"

"As long as I get to watch, I know I'll be."

Sniper quite liked the sound of that.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little unnerved by the… unusual equipment wielded by the partner in Sniper’s previous story, Scout reflects on his own loadout, and asks Sniper about any other exotic anatomy he’s played with. Sniper decides to tell him about how naga hemipenes work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rajiv's appearance is supposed to resemble the blue-lipped sea krait, a beautiful, venomous sea snake often found in, amongst other places, the Indian Ocean.

Scout stared wide-eyed, gaping. "You sucked horse dick?"

Sniper growled, smacking the faun with his hat, "No I didn't suck horse dick, I sucked a centaur's dick!"

"Well, I mean, it's all horse from the waist down, right? What's the difference?"

"The difference bein' one's a an animal and the other's a bloody person!"

"Sheesh, sheesh, okay, calm down!" Scout yelped, shrinking away from his infuriated friend. Silence fell for a moment, Sniper glaring, daring him to try for a parting shot. He raised an eyebrow as Scout's lips began to move. "So, like, did you end up takin' 'im in the ass, then?"

Sniper leaned back against the wall. "For a bit. It was a tough fit, and I had to do all the work, else 'e'd likely kill me. But it was somethin' else. Came so 'ard I lost control of my legs and fell off 'im. 'Course 'e'd already come again before that. So bloody full of come. Not the fullest I've been in a single load, but it's up there," he chuckled. "Made a mess when I fell, though. Grass stuck to me everywhere," he noted, with a shake of his head.

"Pfft real good. A big ball 'a grass an' jizz. You probably looked like the angry ghost of every lawn ever trimmed!"

Sniper had a good laugh at that, remembering well the awkward trek, ass sore, legs still shaking, whole body sticky, to the nearest body of water, then the not quite as awkward but still awkward trek back to get his clothes and gear. It had been an interesting day to be sure.

"Yanno I kinda feel a little ripped off, though," Scout posited with a thoughtful pout. "'Cause Demo's got this enormous dick with the knot an' all, an' your centaur guy's got some kind of gigantic horse-type cock, an' here I am, same dick I always had. Same shape, same size," he explained, tugging aside his loincloth to expose the part in question, taking hold and giving it a shake for comedic effect, "which, yanno, ain't nothin' to complain about," he quickly rejoined, "but it doesn't have any weird tricks or gimmicks or nothin'. You take all these bigass monster dicks an' I get turned into one and what do I got? Standard issue, man."

"As well as superhuman stamina, hip and leg strength, and a hyper-charged sense of touch when you're getting laid. You feel everything more than anyone or anything else and you're really complaining?"

"I'm just sayin' it's weird is all."

"You'd have a deer's prick, mate."

"Yeah, yeah. So what other kinds 'a weird dicks you had in your ass?"

Sniper shot his friend a look of both confusion and amusement. "All sorts. Anything specific you'd like to hear about?"

"I dunno it's not like you got a catalog I can look through and be like, 'Yo tell me about that monster's dick.' 'Sides for you that'd have to be thicker'n a dictionary."

"Are we talking about the catalog or the pricks?"

"Can't it be both?"  
  
"Suppose," Sniper laughed, tapping at his chin in thought. "Ah, I know a good one. It was one summer, 'fore I signed up with BLU. I'd finished up a job and was laying low in India, stayin' away from the cities and makin' my way to the border, hopin' the heat stayed low. Er, metaphorical heat. It was pretty literally hot there. Anyway, I ended up hearin' a local legend about a creature who brought the rains and guarded a site filled with riches. So, of course, I did a little research, asking around, and prep work, and 'eaded out to find the bloke."

 

 

*

 

 

"So only the one is for sex," Sniper observed, feeling the smooth, warm lengths in his hands, letting his fingers dance up their lengths and feel the pulse running through both, "yet you get both stiff?"

"Intriguing, isn't it?" chuckled the great creature before him, a handsome man with brown skin, glittering blue eyes, and long, long black hair, whose flesh gave way to scales at his waist, rings of smooth, deep black and Spanish blue growing lighter, fading in with tan along his belly. He arched in the bushman's touch, gasping lightly to reveal thin, long fangs and a forked tongue, which lolled out of his mouth a moment before tracing his lower lip. "The naga call the rains. We bring life to the land, fill the lakes and rivers and seas. We are fecund and fertile in function and form."

"So what you're sayin' is you don't rightly know but you assume it has to do with your connection to fertility," Sniper replied bluntly, a coy smile on his lips. His hands sped their strokes, actively slipping along the man-serpent's twin cocks.

The naga groaned, the tip of his tail lashing about where he was coiled comfortably atop the satin-clad stone dais that sat at the centre of a moon-lit pool. Coins and gems glittered under the water's surface, reflecting lights onto the walls of the roofless cave and dancing along the naked flesh of the treasure's blushing guardian. He jawed at the air, reaching one manicured hand up to pet at Sniper, slipping beneath his open shirt to pet at the soft hair of his chest and belly.

The bushman dipped his head down to flick his tongue against the phallus he knew was explicitly sexual in function. It tasted slightly musky and murky, a bit like creek water and sweat. The organ itself was slim, a peachy pink with very apparent veins along its length. It curved slightly upward, tapering near the tip to form a blunt point. Its twin matched it perfectly, and he caressed it as he lapped at the first.

The reaction was instant, that delicate hand wrapping in his open shirt and holding him tight. His other found its way to the back of the bushman's head and held him there, pushing, until he took the tip between his lips. Heat surrounded the naga's cock, his other brushing lightly against Sniper's cheek, where the assassin was sure to keep his hand between it and the stubble of his jaw. This registered dimly in the serpent-man's mind behind the dizzying lust that clouded it. He shivered along with each lazy roll of the bushman's tongue, undulating along its length and curling in slow, slow strokes.

Sniper hummed in contentment, letting his fingers dance along the length he couldn't take in, his other hand slipping up and down the naga's other cock with equally languid ease. His thumb would linger along the tip with each pass, making the great serpent cant up in response. His nails dug into Sniper's scalp, gripping his hair and trying, unsuccessfully, to guide the human to speed up. Instead, Sniper took his time, relishing the increasingly urgent groans and whines with which the naga serenaded him.

"Mundy, you—ah! You are divine! Have you been sent by the gods to punish me with your gentle touches?"

"That'd hardly be any fun at all, Rajiv. Gentle is for romance, not for shagging a stranger in a cave full of gold," Sniper replied between licks, catching his breath. He held the naga's cocks together and flicked his tongue between them, swirling about the tips before slowly, carefully, wrapping his mouth around both and trying to take them in. The fit was tight and awkward, but the jerking shudders Rajiv gave, hand quaking in his hair, told him he was doing well.

"I'm—I'm glad we agree. Oh, oh gods, Mundy I need more, I need you!"

Pulling off with a loud, lurid slurp, Sniper shot a crooked grin to the naga. "Do you, then?"

Rajiv sagged onto the dais, released from his delectable torment, and looked to the human with hooded eyes. He released his grip on Sniper, petting at his chest as his hands slipped away. "I do. Strip. You have far too much clothing on. It's indecent," the naga chuckled, pulling himself into an approximation of being seated. "Do you have something to ease the friction?"

"Oh, so that's what you want," Sniper teased, "I hadn't figured."

"Sarcasm doesn't flatter you, human," Rajiv hummed, watching the bushman intently as he stood and disrobed, tugging a tube of lubricant from his pocket before letting his trousers fall and kicking them off into the heap of his boots, socks, hat, and glasses.

"Oh? What does?" Sniper tossed his shirt aside, and nude, straddled the naga's tail, grinding lightly against smooth scales.

"I think flushed cheeks, parted lips, and wailing moans as I penetrate you. That would flatter you nicely."

"Guess I'll 'ave to try it on. Care to 'elp me?" he offered, holding up the lube with a grin.

Rajiv didn't need to be asked twice, slithering, curling around so that he was behind Sniper, who still straddled a length of his tail. He urged the human to lay forward, pressing chest and belly to those striped scales as he plucked the tube from his fingers and gave his ass a generous groping.

The cap was gone, lost and uncared about, clicking gently as it bounced over the stone dais. Rajiv coated a finger, slick and cool as he pressed it against Sniper's bared entrance, the bushman craning his hips up to welcome him eagerly.

Sniper gasped softly as the lube-slick finger breached him, pushing slowly to open him, wriggling about. The naga slicked a second finger and joined the first, hooking to tease at his insides, beginning to scissor and open the assassin.

"You welcome my fingers quite naturally," Rajiv hummed, his free hand squeezing one cheek appreciatively. Sniper's ass was meager, but shapely, and he took the naga readily, moaning softly at the intrusion.

"Tryin' to say I'm loose?"

"Not so much, but I have the feeling you have much practice." The serpent felt Sniper squeeze him rhythmically as he laughed.

"Can't say as you're wrong."

"All the easier for me, then." A third finger, nearly dripping with lube, joined the first two, stretching the bushman wide and urging him open. Moans came through the lanky human's nose, his jaw set as he arched into the touch, moving with Rajiv's hand and fucking himself on his fingers as they spread and opened him. "You're so eager," he breathed, one hand finding its way to Sniper's hip to still him. Carefully, he slid his fingers out, and slicking up the cock the bushman had been lavishing earlier, gave his hip a light slap. "Turn around."

Sniper did as he was bade, turning to see the naga laying on his back, hand on one cock, smirking at him. He shimmied up the smooth scales beneath him, relishing the feel of the cool, glossy flesh along his skin, and perched up on where Rajiv's hips would be. The naga held himself in position, and slowly, Sniper sank down. His head fell back, a heavy groan burbling over his lips as the slick organ filled him. He turned on his way, facing the other cock which stood, proud and hard, beside its twin inside Sniper. He had to balance awkwardly, his own neglected length pressing against Rajiv's, making him shiver.

"It's an awkward fit," he grunted, straining his core to keep from falling off of the naga.

"Normally I mitigate such problems by being the one doing the thrusting," Rajiv chuckled. "Riding isn't so simple a task when you're like to get poked in the thigh."

"Pretty much, yeh."

Rajiv helped steady Sniper with a coil of his tail behind the bushman's back. "Perhaps you can put your talent for welcoming intrusions to use?"

Sniper bit his lip. It took no time at all before he nodded, "Better get ready, then." He began to rock between the cock against his own and the one in his ass, steadying himself against the length of tail behind his back. He grabbed his own prick and Rajiv's in one hand, pumping them together, shuddering.

The naga gasped, petting at Sniper's hip, his tail urging his motions and rubbing at him where it could. Peachy flesh tanned by the sun, coated in dark, soft hair, ran beneath his smooth blue and black scales, undulating with each roll of his hips, each clenching overbalance and each pitched-forward bout of frottage. Sniper was slim but not quite gaunt, lean, rangy muscle wrapped tightly around his skeleton and stretched beneath scarred skin. The way he moved was exquisite, sending shivers up his spine and down to the tip of the naga's long tail.

Sniper arched, bobbing up and down on Rajiv's cock with all of the strength his thighs and middle could muster. He couldn't get a good angle on his prostate like this, but the friction against his cock, the comfortable fullness, it was wonderful. The smooth scales against his skin, the flashes of black and blue and tan belly made him shudder, the naga's appreciative groans and grasping nails only urging him onward.

But he knew what Rajiv wanted. He knew what he wanted, and with great effort and assistance from the naga's helpful tail, he lifted himself from the cock inside him, slipping off with great effort to pitch upward and straddle his waist. "The lube," he panted, holding a hand out.

Rajiv gave him the tube, and hissed in surprise as Sniper proceeded to lean over and squeeze out the entire rest of the lube onto both of his erect cocks, coating them in the slippery, sticky fluid. He dropped the empty tube, and reaching back, took hold of both cocks, holding them together as best he could. He leaned slowly, lowering himself back down, pushing the first cock back inside just enough, and when he was satisfied that it was in far enough, urged the tip of the second to breach him.

Sniper gasped, a strained whine leaving his throat as he pushed both into himself, as he held their bases together, as he lowered himself slowly, spearing himself on both of the naga's cocks simultaneously. He was stretched so wide, and he clenched his teeth to keep from sobbing at the sensation. He knew the stretch of a large insertion well. He'd been taken so many times by so many creatures that a less attentive man would've already lost count, and couldn't wait to continue the trend. But it didn't make the sensation any less intense, any less overwhelming as he filled his ass with two cocks, spit leaking between his teeth and down his lip. His groan was desperate, nearly a howl as he opened wider and wider, until, finally, he was seated fully on Rajiv's body, legs straddling scales, hands petting where they blended into warm russet flesh just below his waist.

"Bloody hell," he breathed, his voice high and utterly disarmed. He doubled forward and let his forehead press to Rajiv's belly.

"How are you?" the naga asked, petting through his hair and scratching lightly at his scalp. He tried to control his own breathing, keep himself composed. Sniper was so tight around him, clenching in rhythmic ripples as his cocks spread him. He could feel the human's pulse, every shift of his body as he tried to relax, and it drove him to delirium as hot breaths puffed against his belly.

Sniper lifted his head, an awful slurp following him as he sucked in the drool that had rolled from his mouth to the naga's skin. "Alright. I'm—I'm alright. I, crikey, I just--"

"It's a lot, I know."

"Yeh. Not the biggest, but the first time I've 'ad to do the work meself. Usually I just lay back and enjoy the ride. My legs aren't sure they're keen on workin'."

"I'd say I understand, but..." Rajiv flicked the tip of his tail in Sniper's line of sight, making him laugh. He clenched and rippled around the twin shafts inside him, making shudders join his laughter, making the naga moan and arch up into him, hands falling to his hips.

"You feel amazin'," Sniper growled, his eyes falling nearly closed. He tried to resist the urge, taking in the handsome face of the naga beneath him, the fangs peeking out as he began to pant, the forked tongue that swept his lip to wet it. He wanted perfect memory of the scaly, handsome creature he currently rode.

"I could say the same for you," Rajiv replied, urging Sniper to motion with those hands, hissing as he began to rock his hips, letting him slip only to take him deep once again, enveloped in the consuming heat of his eager ass. It was magnificent, divine, and as his pace sped, his arms began to quake.

Sniper's voice loosed in shameless moans, whimpers punctuating the apex of his fullness with each roll of his hips. He took Rajiv in deep, withdrew to near emptiness, and took him again, the stretching burn giving way to ecstasy with the familiar motion, the friction of his own cock against the naga's scales, and the way the two inside him would brush him just right with each ingress, sending juddering jolts through his abdomen to sizzle through the muscles of his back and thighs. He wasn't sure how much he could handle, but with Rajiv's hands urging him onward, faster, harder, he was sure to find out.

The slap of skin to scales rang out through the cave, echoing off the surface of the still waters and moist stone walls. Sniper could feel the sting of impact with each turn, Rajiv's nails digging into his hips as he dragged him up and pushed him down and sped his pace until he barely felt like more than a toy for the serpent's pleasure.

And it was destroying Sniper. So full, so stretched, heat and electricity threatening to rip him apart from within as pressure built inside, spurred onward by each slap, each rough prod of his prostate, each grunting moan from the naga, almost drowned out by his own gibbering cries. He was lost, anchored only by the soreness at the edges of his perception.

Rajiv felt him clenching, watched him unraveling, and took hold of Sniper's cock, tugging it in time with his frenzied humping. It took very little effort to bring him over the edge, spilling into his hand with a desperate keen. The flutter of his insides, clenching and spasming around him, brought the naga quickly along behind him. He held his soiled hand to Sniper's lips, and the bushman obediently began to lick it clean, lapping his seed from Rajiv's perfect nails and soft skin.

It was all he needed, sending the serpent into his climax, a shuddering, hissing, guttural cry chasing the echoes of Sniper's own voice as his tail lashed and through only one cock, he pumped the human full of his seed.

Sniper could feel the throb of his orgasm, of being filled one last time, and when Rajiv finally went slack, slumping to the dais in a scaly, sated heap, panting for breath, he slowly, carefully, pulled himself off of his cocks. He sloughed off onto the stone beside him, one arm thrown limply over the slim serpent, gasping for air like he'd forgotten what it was.

Rajiv's tail coiled around him, bundling up under him and lifting him, cradling him comfortably atop the cool, moist stone. He nestled in comfortably, his face hot, his skin tacky with sweat. His ass ached in beautiful, agonizing ways.

"You're going to be okay?" the naga asked, slithering to lay beside the supine human.

"I'll be just fine, mate," Sniper assured him breathily, a loopy grin sliding across his face. "Just, might not be able to walk."

"Ah, yes, I know that feeling well," Rajiv teased, earning a pained laugh for his troubles.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sniper’s wasted so much time telling Scout stories he’d lost track of time, so Demoman, eager to get moving on their full moon plans, seeks him out. A trip to a copse of trees far from base gives the two mercenaries the privacy they need for a monstrous liason.

"Are ye chewin' the lad's wee pointy ears off again, lad?" came the amused, warm tones of Demoman's voice, barging into the room a moment before the man himself did, popping open Sniper's door to lean against the frame.

"That's 'ow we do things. 'e rabbits on to everyone else enough that 'e shuts up when I've actually got somethin' to say," Sniper teased in return, earning a pout from the faun beside him.

"Everyone thinks you're so quiet an' reserved. Fuck, man, if more people knew how much of a freakin' weirdo you are an' how much you like to shoot the shit your rep'd be ruined," Scout countered with a smirk. He turned to the bomber who slipped inside and closed the door behind him, crossing to lean against the wall beside the bed. He looked pained with every motion, his cheeks flushed. "You okay, Demo? You look like you're gonna be sick."

"Shit, is it that late already?" Sniper checked his watch. "Oh hell, I'm sorry, mate. Do you want to head out straight off, then?" He stood, picking up a duffel from beside his night stand, packed and ready to go since before he'd left on his furlough.

"Aye, it's why I came lookin' for ye," Demoman replied, scratching through a muttonchop. His skin tingled everywhere, feeling at once too tight and too big, like he was bloating up. Each movement of his arm pinched and ached at his elbow and shoulder, and his knees felt as though twin vices were tightening against them. "Sundown's in an hour and a half," he winced, abdomen cramping for one long moment, "so we should get goin', lad."

"Sorry about that, the jet lag 'as me off a mite. Let's go, then." Sniper turned to Scout, tipping his hat. "Been a pleasure, mate. But we've got to get away from the base 'fore Demo starts shiftin'."

"Is that why you look like you're gonna keel over?" Scout asked, tail twitching as he leaned forward on all fours on the bed. His dog-tags jingled as they swung free.

"Aye," Demoman replied, trying to ignore a growing headache. "I usually try tae be off base earlier on these days to avoid you lot seein' me like this, but all day before the full moon I feel like utter crap until it finally happens. Aches, cramps, headaches, mood swings worse 'n usual--"

"So you're havin' your wolf-period? Flyin' the furry flag? Ridin' the canine pony? That time 'a the lunar cycle? Aunt Lon Cheney visitin'?" Scout's tail wagged mischievously, his buck teeth on full display at the front of a shit-eating grin.

"Why do we keep his arse around again?"

"The arse is the main reason, I think. Hard to pass up a regular shag, yeh?"

"It's why I keep ye around," Demoman chuckled, swatting playfully at Sniper's backside.

"Jeez, you guys! Some friends!" Scout pouted, rolling onto his back. "I'm gonna wreck your room while you're gone, Snipes. See how you like me then."

"Bout as much as I already do, I'd assume," Sniper teased with a smirk, earning a gasp of faux outrage from his younger friend.

"That hurts, Snipes!"

"Speakin' o' hurtin'," Demoman chimed in, his head beginning to swim and feel tight. Urges were beginning to bubble up under the surface of his thoughts. Dimly, he felt the need to move, a restlessness that made his limbs feel stiff in spite of the pain that radiated out of every joint. His body yearned for the strain of motion. To run, to fight, to fuck. And more, he had trouble turning his thoughts from those imperatives. His skin practically hummed with potential energy, and he was very, very aware of every scent in the room.

Demoman's sense of smell was nothing to discount on a normal day, far beyond human acuity. His hearing would fare the same, but for years of demolitions work. He could smell meals past, sweat, pheromones, personal scents and where they were left. He could smell Heavy on Medic just by standing next to the doctor, or whether Scout needed a partner by the chemicals his body gave off.

Here, now, it was almost maddening. He could smell Medic all over Scout, the lube they'd used, the shampoo and conditioner with which he'd washed his fur, the pheromones he always exuded, and so much more. He could smell the airplane and the Thailand soil still clinging to Sniper's suitcase and boots, and the dried bodily fluids staining bedsheets badly in need of changing. He knew Sniper's scent intimately. He could smell so much on him. Recent tobacco smoke, days-old shisha smoke, his breakfast of eggs and hash, the stale air of the jet, hotel soap, the leather of his van's front seat, sweat, and something stranger. Something foreign. Someone.

Demoman sniffed, wobbling on his feet, the animal at the back of his mind hunkering down and snarling. It smelled of woman and feline. It had intruded on his territory.

"Ah, yeh, right, sorry. We'd better get movin' before I lose 'im," Sniper apologised, ushering Demoman toward the door. He had begun to go glassy-eyed, staring at Sniper with a blankly feral expression.

"Lose 'im?"

"I'm at me weakest right before the change," Demoman ground out, allowing himself to be led. "It's like a fight goin' on inside me right now and it's nae pleasant. Once I transform I'll be back in control, but until then, nae so much."

"Well jeez, get goin'!" Scout urged, hopping off the bed to open the door for them. "Last thing we need is a half-wolfed Demo runnin' around the base!"

Sniper led Demoman out of the base and to his van. He chucked his duffel onto the floor and helped the Scot into the passenger side, then climbed in behind the wheel. Turning the keys in the ignition, he reached a hand over and scratched at Demoman's hatless scalp.

The drive felt like an eternity, played in blisteringly fast slow motion. Lights and colours blurred by at a snail's pace, Demoman's eye growing sluggish and sore as he watched. He shut it, trying to drown out the dull throb that flowed from his temples and through his skull. He focused on Sniper's fingers and the lazy circles they drew as he dragged them through his hair, blunt nails on the sensitive skin of his head. He felt the headache begin to ebb away, tension slowly releasing as he craned into the bushman's touch.

Before he knew it, the air smelled of wood and water, soil and loam above the dust and sand that dominated the landscape. Demoman opened his eye as Sniper stopped scratching him, putting the van in park and killing the engine. Before him stretched a smallish expanse of woodland, birthed from the increasingly moist earth that leached out of a small river. The base was long out of sight, sand having given way to dry dirt, which spawned scrub grass and brush. Fallow trees dotted the land behind them. It was a long drive to the nearest wooded area from the base at Teufort, a ways to go for privacy. Sometimes they would stay close, find a hidden, rocky corner of the desert to make their time, but other nights called for greenery and moss and water. This, Sniper had judged, was one of those nights.

Demoman climbed out of the van and stretched, feeling his joints pop and crack, his muscles, tense and rigid, trembling a bit with the effort. The air was clearer out here, and as the sun approached the horizon, casting colours out across the grey evening, the land grew cooler, calmer. It soaked into the Scot and centered him.

"Feelin' better, mate?" Sniper asked, laying a gentle hand on his friend's shoulder after closing up the van. He held the duffel in one hand and wore a warm smile. Demoman returned the expression, his chest swelling even as his heart melted. Lord, did he always look so dashing in the dying light.

"Aye, the distance helps. We should have about forty-five minutes before it hits. Did ye bring everythin'?"

"Course, includin' some game I picked up on the way from the airport. It's in the camper fridge." Sniper set down the duffel and went to retrieve the meat in question.

Upon his return, Demoman lifted the bag. "Further in, to the usual clearing, then? Or do ye want tae set camp here, and see where the night takes us?"

"I'm fine with you doing all of the taking tonight," Sniper growled, armed with a raised eyebrow and lurid grin. Demoman replied in kind, and the two hefted their equipment for a short hike past the tree line to a comfortable, grassy clearing not far in. They quickly set to work making camp.

Firewood was collected, stones assembled into a fire ring, soil dug out to recess the center, and a spit built on which the meat, chunks hacked from what Sniper had identified as an oryx, was skewered for roasting. Sniper built the fire and set to cooking as Demoman laid down a blanket.

"I dinnae even ken oryx were native tae New Mexico," the bomber mused, tugging essentials from the duffel to lay on the blanket. A large bottle of lubricant, a slightly smaller bottle of lubricant, an enormous butt plug, a bottle of amyl nitrate just in case, and a few salves and first aid items in case something went terribly wrong.

"They're not," Sniper replied, setting logs on the growing fire. "Been introduced just this year, breedin' like wildfire. Apparently the 'unters want big game in the desert. Makes good sense, that. Not like they can just head northeast a few days and hit miles of forest. Seems daft to bring in something without a natural predator to keep the numbers in check, 'uman 'unters or no."

"Maybe they're lookin' tae keep me fed, aye?" Demoman nodded at the meat Sniper was setting up to roast.

"Seems to be workin', then."

They shared a laugh and settled in to let their dinner cook, content to chat as the aroma of cooking meat filled their senses. It was a fine tease and anticipation for Demoman's transformation.

When the wolf rose, the hunger flooded in. The urge to hunt, the need to feast, it consumed his senses. Presented with hot flesh ready to devour, the beast would be placated. With a meal already present to sate the hunger that rose, it wouldn't cut into his time with Sniper; the wolf wouldn't need to hunt. So in their months together, the bushman had taken to preparing meals ahead of time.

If there was one thing Sniper was very good at, it was preparation.

Laying back on the blanket, Sniper set about unbuttoning his shirt, taking his time and letting himself relax with the routine motions. Excitement buzzed through every cell, making him feel like his very skin vibrated against the fabric of the blanket, his shirt quickly shed with his undershirt, exposing tanned flesh to the grey twilight.

Demoman observed with interest. He loved watching Sniper prepare. His eye followed every angle and curve of the rangy bushman's body as he shucked his pants and shoes, leaving himself nude and providing the Scot with a lovely reminder of how rarely he bothered to wear underwear. Well, he was almost nude. Sniper tossed his watch and sunglasses into his hat, setting it aside, and rested atop the blanket wearing only the leather-cord necklace and a rune-inlaid fang that he had donned within days of their first tryst under the moonlight, which he never removed. The assassin never seemed one for jewelry, but Demoman had to admit that it suited him well. He found himself wanting to ask after it. Certainly, he'd spent a few idle nights, half-drunk on love and the rest of the way drunk on whiskey, laying with his head in Sniper's lap, batting at the thing like a damned cat toy. Sniper himself had been drunk on most of those occasions as well, chuckling warmly and rubbing his belly.

Sniper idly pet at himself, rolling his balls in his hand. Rubbing at the head of his soft cock with one thumb, he looked to Demoman with hooded eyes. He grinned, enjoying the sight of the bomber's eye sweeping over his prone form, taking in every detail and relishing it all greedily. He looked gorgeous like that. Not quite predatory, not yet, but appreciative, almost reverent. It made his heart begin to race, and he fancied he was seeing more than lust and anticipation in the handsome Scot's rakish features. Somewhere in Sniper's mind, he pretended he was seeing adoration, infatuation, and love. He certainly could be mistaken for smitten, the way he was smiling. Suddenly, Sniper very much wanted Demoman to kiss him.

He did lean in, crawling over to kneel halfway over the bushman, craning over his middle and planting a hand on the blanket on either side of his chest. Warm lips met his shoulder, the soft bristles of the bomber's muttonchops grazing his skin, tickling at his neck moments before his lips followed in their wake, kissing a slow, hot line up his sensitive flesh. His tongue flicked out, and teeth clamped gently down, squeezing just so, worrying the slightest bit, earning needy groans and sighs for his trouble. Sniper's hands slipped up Demoman's sides and back, petting up to his shoulders and sliding back down to dip together at the small of his back and lower still to grab ample handfuls of his ass. The Scot reacted immediately, grunting into Sniper's neck and throwing a leg across the bushman, straddling him and bringing into contact their burgeoning erections.

"Bloody hell," Demoman breathed between nibbles, working his way up Sniper's jaw. "Yer so damn sexy, Mundy. Ye bewitch me."

"Ain't even started to cast yet, mate," the assassin replied with a chuckle and gasp, arching against the Scot's hips, letting his lips be claimed in a hungry kiss.

Tongues darted and clashed, caressing and seeking one another to grind together, mirroring the motion of their hips. Demoman held Sniper's cheek in one hand, thumb brushing his cheekbone, fingertips curling along his stubble-coated jaw while his other hand traced the curve of his waist. He could taste this man forever, unwilling to stop, to move, to do anything but kiss Sniper and touch and hold him. He felt light, insubstantial, barely conscious, and letting his eye open just a crack, saw Sniper's eyes closed, lashes fluttering a bit against his cheeks, and it ached how perfect he was.

When at last, regretfully, they parted, Sniper was panting, viciously hard against Demoman's own eager length, and bright red across his whole face. "I gotta get started, mate," he managed to gasp out, reaching for the smaller of the bottles of lube sitting nearby. "Unless, that is, you want to give me a hand?"

Demoman grinned. He loved when Sniper asked for his help. He took hold of the bottle and popped it open, assaulted instantly by the scent of artificial cherry flavouring. He looked with confusion at the label. "Edible lubricant?"

Sniper chuckled, "Heh, yeh. I was 'opin' we could use it to prepare me, so when you transform, maybe you could...'ave a bit of a snack?"

A grin crossed the bomber's lips, and he flicked his eyes from the bottle to the bushman laying beneath him. "On yer knees, then."

"Aces."

Sniper assumed the position, rolling over to kneel up, resting his head on his crossed arms atop the blanket. His chest lightly brushed the ground, and his cock hung heavy beneath him, hot between his thighs. Demoman ran his hands over the small, slightly hairy cheeks of Sniper's ass, squeezing once he had a good handful. He parted them, looking at the pucker of his flesh where his body opened, a dusky pink in colour and twitching a bit as his muscles clenched in anticipation.

The bomber tilted the bottle and squeezed some lube onto his fingers, unnatural cherry filling his senses as the pink-tinted liquid slicked his digits. It certainly was slippery. Definitely not enough for a proper routing, but it would do the trick to open him up. He rubbed the flavoured liquid around Sniper's hole, slicking up the warm skin around it, wetting the whole area and making the bushman squirm a little to urge him on. A little more lube, and Demoman's finger dipped into him, pushing inside with little effort, Sniper relaxed and sighing as he was finally breached. He hummed contentedly as that finger slid deeper, pushing in knuckle after knuckle until it was fully within his body. It wriggled about, easing him open, letting him adjust to the intrusion, before more lube and a second finger entered him.

Sniper arched into the touch, rocking back to urge Demoman's fingers in and out, to fuck himself on those fingers and wordlessly beg to be spread wide. He moaned softly through his nose, lips closed, brows furrowed as his cheek laid atop his folded arms. He could sit still in the forest for hours, hide in a tree for days, remain a ghost in desert sands for a week if need be when he was working, when he was lining up his shot and calculating to make sure it struck true. But when he had hot fingers deep in his ass, scissoring and stretching him open, anticipating the blissful penetration of toys or cock to follow, he didn't possess nearly as much patience as he fancied. "Give me more, mate."

"As ye wish," Demoman soothed, slipping a third, slippery finger inside. The smell of the cherry lube was almost offensive to his nose, strong and acrid, entirely artificial. Yet all the same, he felt himself salivating as he watched his fingers disappear inside the prone Australian, spreading and stretching him open wider and wider, preparing him to accommodate everything he planned to take that night.

The sun was almost gone from the sky, greyness overtaking the landscape and filtering through the trees, swallowing up the bloom of colours that spilled over the horizon like the great star's life blood loosed amongst the ocean of stars that drowned it. Demoman could feel itching in his gums, knowing the change would be soon, and with liberal application of the flavoured lubricant, slipped his pinky and thumb inside of the bushman, opening him impossibly wide around his fist, stretching his digits out to open the muscles that fought him. Sniper was panting, high moans calling out of his throat but refusing to leave, simply rising and falling before they ever entered his mouth. He writhed, clutching the blanket with hands no longer acting the pillow but gripping the fabric that lay at either side of his head, bracing himself. He clenched his jaw and whined, shivering as Demoman had him wide enough for their purposes, wider than any human really had a need to be. His hand slipped out slowly, leaving Sniper to slump to the blanket in a heap, his hard cock pressed awkwardly between his body and ground.

"Do ye want the plug now?"

Sniper swallowed hard, "No, I want you first thing. Dessert before dinner, yeh?"

"Terrible manners," the Scot teased, tugging a bandana out of his pocket to wipe at his hand. "I suppose I should get meself ready, then."

"'ow long?" Sniper asked.

"Two, maybe three minutes," Demoman replied, casting his gaze to the horizon, where the sun was barely a sliver, hemorrhaging its last light into the cool night air.

"Too long." The bushman laughed, flopping over onto his side to watch as Demoman tugged his shirts over his head in order, first his uniform shirt, followed by the long-sleeved undershirt he wore, exposing his upper body in all of its glory. Sniper's eyes rolled over the expanses of dark flesh, with its sparse, dark hair and light, aged scars. His muscles bulged beneath his skin, well-toned and athletic in their shape, well-maintained through the heat of battle and thrice-weekly weight training alongside Soldier. He fancied the exercise he gave the Scot during the evenings helped to contribute. Demoman bent to quickly shed his boots and socks. A clink and shuffle, and his belt was free, followed by a zip. His trousers were tossed to the pile along with his boxers beneath, laying his body naked to the cool evening's breeze.

Sniper admired the muscular curve of Demoman's ass, his toned thighs, and his slim calves leading to large, high-arched feet. His hair, not dense, but dark and tightly curled, was rubbed away toward his ankles, where his socks normally kept hold about his legs. As the Scot turned, it became obvious he was hard, worked up from working Sniper, and he grinned down at his supine partner, intent clear on his features. He couldn't wait for this, either. He loved the sex they had, no matter when, but to obliterate Sniper in his lupine mein, to drive the man wild through not just fulfillment of his kink, but mind-blowing sex, to take him over and over and claim him fully, it was a cause for excitement. He reached up and tugged his eyepatch from his face, setting it carefully down atop the pile of his clothing. His bad socket was closed, as he kept it by habit, a soft green glow peeking between the lids and betraying the light that lay in the empty space behind them where his eye had been, long ago.

Breathing deep, Sniper drank in the sight, excited to glimpse the bomber in all of his glory before the wolf took him. He was beautiful, an image of human perfection, and as the sun finally disappeared, he became something far more.

Demoman groaned, doubling over as the shadows closed on the horizon, the moon, bright and laughing overhead, finally casting its spell. He felt full, stretched, too large inside himself and bloated near to bursting. His stomach clenched, and the sharp stabbing in his joints spread out like roots through his bones, crawling through the minerals of his body and creeping into his marrow. His back crackled, cold heat rippling up his spine from base to skull, and he could feel a tug at his brow and jaw like they were being yanked off of his head. His muscles burned and stung, cramping and clenching even as they stretched and extended, aching as if from overuse. He itched everywhere, his skin springing to life in the sudden, awful prickle of follicles exploding in growth.

It didn't hurt properly. It wasn't the agonizing awfulness one would expect of a complete bodily transformation. Instead, if was a frustrating amalgam of aches and stiffness, the strange niggling tingle of bones growing, extending, and changing shape, the grinding crackle of joints changing their function, the sickening drop of his stomach as his spine began to grow, new vertebrae appearing where there were none, lengthening into a new limb that curved out behind him in a slim, brown, hairless line of skin and bone, then itched as follicles burst forth with thick, dark fur along its length in great volume.

His face pushed forward, bone extending into a great muzzle, teeth shifting into sharp rows crowned by great fangs by the front, pushing from his gums in a frustratingly itchy rush. His tongue grew flat and long, his nose changing shape and texture as thick, rigid whiskers sprouted beneath it, his muttonchops growing long and soft as his pelt filled out the flesh around them, covering his face in black fur. His skull, his muzzle, his hands, his feet, all shifted and stretched, shaping themselves to lupine form as he felt the bones moving and molding themselves to their new state, making his guts quiver and shudder with nausea. Chills ran through the small of his back, restrained there and unable to surge in any direction as he grew and grew, skin prickling and stretching and growing stronger behind the pelt that now covered nearly every inch of him. He itched beyond reason, fingernails and toenails growing into hard, black claws. His big toe wandered behind his foot, popping out as a dewclaw as the rest of his toes shifted in shape and size, forming a symmetrical curve at the front of each massive, padded foot.

His erection had flagged with the discomfort and sickness, half-hard and shrinking, but it hung now not as an extension of his abdomen but stood forth from its sheath of fur and flesh, thick and burgundy where it had once been a dark, rich brown. His balls wore their own fur, shorter than the rest of his great form but still covering the sensitive flesh that held them. He stretched, tail lashing, immense, bulky muscle siding beneath fur-clad skin, the claws of his feet digging into the dry soil.

The green glow that threatened to spill out of Demoman's closed eye blazed from the socket in radiant light, belching viridescence into the night air, trailing motes which fluttered into the darkness to wink slowly out of existence. His eye closed, the glow steaming out of the corners of his eye, and arching up, he threw his head back, howling to the moon the challenge of his existence, heralding the coming of the great predator to the lonely, dry woods.

Sniper watched, rapt, and entirely hard as Demoman became the great wolf, completed his transformation, and crooned to the sky. He was majestic, dangerous, clad in thick, black fur and bulky muscle, his ears pressed back to his head.

Demoman turned, sniffing, coming to his senses and remembering where he was. The wolf was there, a solid, palpable presence, like a second mind abutting his own yet still part of a single whole. No longer was it a half-formed slurry in his skull, but a set of senses and urges that floated atop his own, able to be reached into, to be merged with, to move in and out of priority with his human mind. It bore down, eager, excited, hungry to sate all of its needs, and the bomber had to concentrate to keep hold.

Senses threatened to overwhelm him. Scents burned raw, feeding him information, making him almost dizzy with input. He smelled the woods, oryx roasting over the fire, dirt and wind and water, and beside him, the stark scent of cherry lubricant. Above it all, he smelled Sniper, and his arousal, which choked the air like a beacon in the dark. It was a smell that made his insides grow tight, his mouth salivate, and his cock grow hard again, stiffening until its length stood tall and proud from his body, terrifying to behold.

He rounded on Sniper, one golden eye scanning the prone human and relishing the way he presented himself. He didn't recoil, simply laid himself bare for the wolf's amusement, spreading his legs and grinning like a mad man. He could feel the heat pouring off of the assassin's cock, smell the pheromones that bled off of him into the air. He was hungry, and so was the great wolf. Demoman remembered what Sniper wanted, and he was all too eager to have it. He fell to all fours, crawling atop Sniper's legs and sniffing at him, jaws just above his belly, his breaths resonating in his chest in a soft growl. He watched how the bushman reacted, growing red-faced, dizzy, and licking his lips. He was so turned on it looked painful, his cock twitching a bit with his pulse and the muscle contractions of redoubled lust. It was nearly purple.

Something they had in common, came an errant thought from his human mind as the wolf consumed it, long, flat tongue lolling out to give the hot member a long lick.

Sniper arched and groaned, his head falling back, his hips juddering up to follow the motion of Demoman's tongue. Hot, slick, and so, so soft, it left a hot stripe from balls to head, and the bushman panting in his wake. He didn't have a chance to beg for more, as the great beast snatched hold of one leg in his mighty paw, claws digging lightly into his skin, not yet piercing it.

He never tried to wound Sniper, but it was a matter of fact that by the end of the night, those sharp claws would draw blood and breach skin, those great fangs would leave punctures along shuddering shoulders, and though it ripped chunks from the bomber's heart with every cry, every iron tang of blood, every scar or scrape or bruise he left behind, Sniper had never once complained. In fact, Demoman thought he might fancy it, having caught the assassin admiring the bites and scratches he wore the morning after.

Demoman couldn't help but admit that it was pretty hot. Leaving his mark permanently on Sniper seemed very, very right.

The great wolf lifted Sniper by his leg, earning a yelp of surprise, and took hold of him with his other hand around his hip. He felt a claw prick into Sniper's waist, a slight hiss of pain accompanying it, but when he took hold with both hands, it didn't matter any more. Giant thumbs pried him open, and then the bushman's whole world was the hot slide of Demoman's flat tongue against his asshole, and he flailed uselessly in the face of the overwhelming sensation. He was upside down, the beast hunkered down on his knees, holding Sniper's ass to his face and letting his head and shoulders press at an awkward angle into the blanket. It didn't matter. As half his blood rushed to his head and the rest to his groin, he didn't care. He reached up, grasping hold of Demoman's furry wrists as a lifeline as that tongue began to assail him, licking hot between his cheeks, from back to front, lapping hard against his stretched hole, laving up his taint to lavish his balls with heat and moisture, curling his tongue around them as best he could and making Sniper nearly choke at the feeling. He returned to where he was wanted most, where his fingers had left a cherry-flavoured trail in his wake. He lapped over and over, picking up the awful artificial fruit taste, delving for something more carnal, more real, and under the chemical-induced cherry, he tasted Sniper. His skin, his body, the flavour of his hunger and need conveyed in the taste of his very flesh.

Sniper clung hard, gasping, whimpering, nails digging into Demoman's arms as he writhed in the great wolf's grasp, legs hanging uselessly in the air held stock-still with tight muscles. His whole body was wound tight, tense and trembling as he was held and ruined with the invading tongue, which probed into him, licking around, picking up every ounce of the noisome flavoured lubricant and slathering him with hot saliva. He felt nearly hollow, his insides being licked out by the beast's soft tongue, sending slow rolling crackles of ecstasy running through him. He was so hard, and he couldn't touch his cock, couldn't hold his balls, couldn't do anything with his hands except for hang on for dear life, whining under the assault.

He was nearly thrashing now, hips spasming and shaking in the wolf's grip, voice loosed in loud, breathy cries. Demoman had no intention of stopping, holding him firm, claws prickling at his skin, beginning to dig in. Dimly, the Scot could feel moisture against the pads of his fingers, hot blood beginning to well in small punctures. It seemed to only make Sniper grasp him harder, whine louder, shudder more viciously with each heavy ebb that rolled through the rangy Australian. Demoman lapped hungrily at Sniper, a treat for his senses, and as he finished clearing away the lubricant, he could smell more clearly the bushman's musk, which only made him hungrier.

He growled softly, lapping harder, faster, more, needful and eager. He wanted to throw Sniper down, pin him to the ground and fuck him ruthlessly, take him roughly and punish that slim ass with his cock, claiming him and destroying him both at once. He needed Sniper, he wanted Sniper, and letting his tongue slip inside of Sniper once more, drove him over the edge.

The rangy assassin was practically sobbing as he came, his cry desperate and frenzied. His cock, never yet touched, throbbed as he shot come across his belly and chest to catch himself in his upturned face, spattering it with hot white.

Demoman set the bushman down, a smirk crawling up his muzzle as he collapsed into a panting heap, his own come on his face. He bent over to lap it off, ignoring the muffled, half-hearted protests that met the action. His cock brushed Sniper's thigh, making flames rise within him. He growled low, the sound thrumming through the bushman's spent body and making him shiver. The great wolf bore down, claws piercing the blanket on either side of Sniper's head, his hot, heavy cock resting against the human's belly and chest, thick, long, and terrifying.

When he was hard, Demoman was intimidating to say the least, as big around as a man's fist and a little over a foot in length. His flesh pulsed against the soft hair of the bushman's torso, soft and tickling along him, and he began to rut.

He grunted, hips bucking, rubbing his cock against Sniper's skin, warming the great wolf's innards as he humped his mate. Sniper was his, only his, and the stench that still clung to him, that of woman, and of feline, was days old, barely there. It didn't matter. It was offensive. Another had been with his mate, had left their stink upon him. The animal surged forth within Demoman, and he inched up to rut against Sniper's chest, occasionally prodding him in the chin with the head of his immense member. He would take the human, drown out the scent of that creature, and replace it with his own, as it should be. Sniper should smell of him, none other. He was his, his mate, his territory, and he would mark him as such as a warning to all others.

Low growls issued forth from the great wolf as his hips rocked harder, making Sniper whimper under the weight and heat. Demoman was so hard against him, his cock so hot, so perfect, rutting against his torso with unabashed need. Calloused hands slipped between them, petting at that enormous shaft, running up and down its length, sliding down to rub at the knot that was forming at its base. He tilted his head forward, opening his mouth and letting his tongue slip along the underside of the head. It was too big to fit into his mouth comfortably, certainly too big to avoid his teeth, but he lapped at what he could, the great beast's thrusts dropping from long, hungry strokes to short, quick bucks, letting his human mate wrap his lips around the tip and suckle at what little could fit. His tongue laved over it in rapid laps, tracing the slit and teasing at it while deft hands moved over the rest of his length, one tracing the crown and frenulum, the other palming at the knot.

"Come on, mate," the bushman rasped around him, urging his lupine lover on as his body rocked with each thrust. He could feel himself growing hard again already, feel his cock gently slapping Demoman's balls as they bobbed with their motion.

Demoman slammed a hand down on Sniper's shoulder, claws digging into tanned flesh and drawing blood as he crumpled forward. Heat blossomed within him, his guts drawn tight, his muscles quaking. This would the first of many, and with force and volume, he came, throwing his head back in a lusty howl. He filled Sniper's mouth, forcing the bushman to pull away, only to cover his face and head with the first two massive spurts, a third came as his hips rocked back, catching Sniper in the jaw and neck, and a fourth joined it, sliding down his shoulders, soaking into his hair, and making him groan. A fifth emptied him completely, matting his chest hair down under the slick pool that he left.

With a snarl, Demoman backed off of his mate, covered in his seed, marked and squirming. He watched the bushman's come-slick throat bob as he swallowed the load in his mouth, watched him paw at himself, grasping his cock to steady himself, to cow the arousal that threatened to paralyze him. He wanted him more. He wanted to be inside that perfect, wriggling creature, who wiped the come from his eyes and moaned.

For now, however, Demoman was hungry.

He shut his eye and took a deep breath, tearing his attention from the assassin's form and turning away, control slowly bleeding back. He couldn't have his mate again; not yet. His body needed time, no matter how willing his spirit. Instead, he'd satisfy another craving, and ventured to the dying bonfire to tear the meat from the spit and devour it.

Sniper sat up, sluggish, lust-drunk and soaked in the great beast's seed. It was hot, so hot, but he had things he had to do. Demoman would want to fuck him. Sniper loved it, being filled to excess with the werewolf's titanic organ, claimed and taken, so he knew he had to work quickly. Demoman could draw out his meal, but it wouldn't take long. In his ruin, his legs like jelly, he had to prepare. He rolled onto his side and snatched the lube from the edge of the blanket. Cast aside was the thin, flavoured liquid in favour of thick, slippery fluid that would last. Sniper looked to the plug and ignored it, knowing full well he was ready, Demoman's tongue having taken away the last of his resistance. Instead, he slicked up three fingers with liberal amounts of the thick lube and slid them into himself with little effort. He painted himself, coating his insides with the slippery fluid, and pulling out, covered his hole and the area around it for good measure. He ran his fingers across the blanket to wipe them, knowing they'd either wash or trash the thing anyway. Sniper climbed onto his knees, resting his arms and chest on the blanket with his ass in the air, looking back over his shoulder to watch the mighty wolf. Blood dotted his waist and hips, digs in his shoulder weeping softly, a few trails in a few different directions betraying how casually he'd been handled thus far. He bit his lip at the sight and shivered. This was a good night already.

A fresh whiff of pheromones and lubricant turned Demoman's attention away from the final hock of oryx, hot and juicy between his jaws, snapping his head in the direction of the scent. Sniper was presenting for him, slick and ready, his balls hanging between his thighs, one hand idly palming at them.

Demoman gulped down his meal and snarled loudly, partly for show. His mate was open for him, ready to be reclaimed, already marked as his. He would banish the stench of the other creature, bathe him in his own scent, and take him back. He approached, standing tall and enjoying the look Sniper gave him as his cock bobbed with each step. Massive and monstrous, the great wolf fell forward, crouched on all fours and came upon his mate hungrily, climbing atop him and dwarfing him as his frame eclipsed the human's. He pressed against his entrance, feeling the ready slickness there. Sniper had long realized it was an easier task to lubricate himself excessively rather than to try and stop the eager, horny wolf long enough to slick him up. Demoman felt Sniper tense as that intimidating heat pushed against him, and as he willed himself to relax, the werewolf relinquished control of himself, letting the wolf take the reigns once again and push inside.

Sniper practically yowled as he was stretched open by the enormous insertion. He shuddered, pain and pleasure arguing in every nerve as Demoman filled him. His jaw hung slack, his eyes unblinking as he was speared. The ingress was slow, but not careful. The wolf lacked control enough for such things; instead he moved gradually forward, pushing until Sniper was sure he would die.

He was deep, so deep, but had stopped before reaching his root. Demoman had enough awareness to know that seating himself fully inside Sniper would end with him knotted. He didn't want that; not yet. He wanted to thrust freely, long, vicious strokes that drove the air out of the trembling human beneath him in sobbing moans.

So, he did. Drawing his hips back, he slipped nearly out of Sniper's slick hole, relishing the tension of his ass around the head of his cock, and plunged back in with force. He rocked the bushman's body, pushing a cry past his lips, only to rock back and do it again. And again. And again. Demoman's tail arched as he thrust, pistoning himself roughly in and out of the assassin. Sniper was the one howling, his come-smeared cheek pressed to the scratchy blanket, drool pooling beneath his open mouth as he sobbed his pleasure to the trees and grass.

Demoman growled, panting as he fucked Sniper hard. One large hand came to rest between his shoulder blades, holding him in place, pushing the air out of him and refusing to let too much back in. Claws bit into the bushman's skin, sending sparks chasing the rising heat inside him. He gasped, and for the second time that night, came, further messing the blanket as he spilt onto it with a plaintive wheeze. His muscles contracted in a flurry of motion, clenching down on Demoman and tugging a whine out of the beast. It was time.

He pulled out of Sniper, making his mate yelp at the sudden egress, only to grip himself carefully with his free hand, leaning on the human as he tugged himself to climax, shooting a voluminous load over his back and ass, coating him in thick, hot spunk that splattered over thighs and dripped down his balls. Sniper whimpered at the sensation, drowned out by Demoman's howl.

The great wolf sagged, sitting back on his haunches and letting Sniper breathe. His eye trailed over the come-soaked human's prone form, taking in the sight with hazy contentment. He watched as Sniper slumped to the blanket, gasping for breath, sore and trembling. His thighs twitched. His toes curled. His ass gaped a bit from the ruthless punishment it had undergone, and Demoman let out a soft whine in spite of himself, of his exhaustion, wanting to be back inside his welcoming depths.

Sniper chuckled at the sound, reaching an unsteady hand behind himself to swipe through the thick fluid that coated most of his back and all of his ass, spreading it over his hip as he rolled to his side. He fondled himself, teasing at his balls and coating them and his cock in Demoman's seed. He wiped his hand over belly and chest, and shivered and moaned. This was Demoman's way of reclaiming him sexually, of banishing the offending scents of others who had lain with him. He hadn't really needed to seek out and bed an apsonsi while he'd been in Thailand. True, it had been on his to-do list, but his motives had been far more focused on the resulting reaction from his lupine companion. Demoman would smell her, hate it, and need to reclaim him. He would need to mark Sniper as his territory. The bushman couldn't resist.

"Fuckin'... hell," Sniper panted, using both hands now to spread Demoman's seed over his flesh. It was amazing. Slick, warm, thick, and covering him from his head to his knees. "Demo..."

Demoman whimpered softly, leaning on all fours as he watched Sniper. He loved to watch the bushman revel in being covered in his come. He didn't quite get what Sniper got out of it, but on his end, it was painfully hot.

Minutes passed, Demoman enjoying the show, and Sniper, his legs and ass aching, enjoyed his audience. The smell was gone, the scent of the feline creature Sniper had dallied with had been destroyed and replaced with Demoman's own. Slowly, he felt the wolf calm, his territory established, his mate claimed, his belly full, his needs met. He stretched, pacing around the supine assassin, a grin on his muzzle. The wolf in him had gotten what he needed, but that didn't mean the Scot was satisfied. His cock hung heavy beneath him, peeking out of its sheath and growing more and more with each moan, each lascivious trail of the bushman's hands along his own body. Demoman was still crackling with energy, his legs stiff, his fur practically buzzing along his skin. He wanted more, wanted Sniper. He sniffed at the human and stood, his eager erection again showing his mate that he was ready for him.

Sniper nodded. "Okay."

Demoman practically pounced the bushman, rolling him onto his belly as he grabbed hold of his hips and yanked him up to his knees, plunging back inside. It forced a cry from the weary human, filled and stretched with abrupt ferocity. Calloused hands scrabbled at the blanket, tearing up grass from the soil beneath.

There was no gentle easing into the act, just the needful, harsh trusts of Demoman trying to undo his partner, to destroy him, just as he knew he loved. Sniper was hot and tight around him, slick and used but so, so good. The Australian’s rangy body was wracked with shudders, his groans unabashed and incessant. His voice wavered with each forceful ingress, shaken away as his lungs emptied. Demoman snarled, giving Sniper all he wanted, all he could take, all he could give.

"Shhhhhit!" the bushman slurred, fucked out of his mind, so very full. He gasped as clawed hands wrapped around his waist, tugging him from the blanket and dragging him with the great beast as Demoman sat with Sniper in his lap, tail brushing the ground. He lapped at his neck, clutching his mate tightly as he bucked up into him in short thrusts.

Sniper's head lolled back against Demoman' furry chest, allowing him access to his sensitive, come-slick flesh as he panted dumbly. Sharp teeth dug gently into his neck and shoulder, the pinching sensation making the bushman hiss and clench around Demoman. He replied by lifting and lowering him faster, teeth worrying into his shoulder with the dramatic movements, claws pricking into his sides. Soon, Demoman tasted blood, and Sniper was moaning like a well-paid whore, clutching at the wolf's head, at his arm, fingers tugging at his fur.

Demoman released Sniper, lifting him up and turning him to face him before skewering him once again. The reaction was instant, Sniper curling forward and burying his face in the great beast's chest, clinging to him as Demoman sank him down to the root. He held his hips there, grinding into him, lapping at the fresh wound he'd caused, too lost in his lover to worry. Instead, he panted and whined, and Sniper joined him as he felt himself begin to stretch.

His cock was knotting up inside Sniper, muscle bunching up to excessive size, rooting the human onto his massive member and locking them together. A giant hand pet at Sniper's scratch-dotted back, trying to soothe him as he shuddered and whimpered, trying to relax into the burn of the stretch.

It was big, so big. It made him want to cry in pain and elation, Sniper's mind swimming at the thought and feel of being held in place by that gargantuan cock inside him.

Demoman held him close, rising to his knees, then pitching forward, carefully lowering Sniper to the blanket and himself atop the slim gunman. He supported his weight with one hand, the other finding its way to Sniper's hip, grasping it tight as he resumed thrusting, now moving in short, hard bucks, barred exit by the knot inside his quaking lover. He drove deep, growling and grunting with the force of his ardor, watching with eager interest as Sniper grabbed hold of himself with one hand, the other wrapped around Demoman's neck and shoulder and gripping his fur, and began to tug at himself like he was ready to explode.

He might just have been.

It was barely a minute before Sniper was coming, gazing with hazy eyes at the monster atop him, who looked at him with such adoration and desire. Demoman lapped at his cheek as he rode out the orgasm, still fucking him, watching intently as the overwhelmed human shook and shuddered and curled in on himself before going as stock-straight as he could, his strangled cry shrill and undone as it echoed through the branches of the nearby trees. He was beautiful.

The spasms that squeezed Demoman hurried him along, and holding Sniper close with one immense paw, the other steadying him, he drove into the boneless body of his mate until the heat and pressure surged forth and took him with them, pumping Sniper full of his seed with a raucous howl, his tail wagging as he felt Sniper shiver with each throb and spurt that emptied into his overwrought form. He felt full, overfull, like he would bloat and burst from the internal pressure and volume, which, knotted as he was, had nowhere to go. It was a feeling all at once disgusting and satisfying, worrisome and sexy, and he found himself moaning as the great wolf finished filling him and ran a clawed thumb carefully over his cheek.

Demoman wrapped his arms carefully around Sniper and lifted him once more, clutching him to his chest as he lowered himself to the blanket to lay on his back. The bushman sprawled atop him, nuzzling into his thick, if now sticky, fur, shivering with each movement that jolted the immense cock that still penetrated him or sloshed the thick, hot liquid that it held inside.

They lay there for minutes unending as the moon shone down knowingly from amongst his entourage of stars, as if to congratulate them on a night well fucked. Demoman pet carefully at Sniper's sticky back, working to try and soothe the quaking, limp man in his arms. He was tired, and a bit sleepy, but knew he had much night left to go. He would regain his energy eventually. What that meant for Sniper had yet to be seen, but for now, a nap seemed nice as he waited to unknot and enjoyed the warmth of being inside of his beloved.

Sniper opened one bleary eye and cast a glance up to the sky. They had taken quite a while, and he wondered where the night would take them. It would be a while before Demoman was able to disengage from him, before either would have a rest from the overstimulation that now plagued them both. In time, he would be released. Demoman's cock would unknot and go flaccid, and likely he'd be treated to the strange sensation of the sheer amount of come that filled him spilling down his thighs. Tonight, and likely tomorrow, as was usual, he would probably not be able to walk or sit up. He'd be treated to a litany of apologies from the doting Scot, further compounded by all of his wounds, and would likely not get any rest. In spite of this, he'd receive a tongue-lashing for letting him get so rough with him, for not stopping him, all the while being pampered and fed and snuggled by his apologetic partner. Not that he minded. It was nice to know Demoman cared.

For now, however, it was just the quiet of night, the sounds of the woodlands, and the deep, rhythmic breathing of the handsome Scot-cum-werewolf whom he was now using as a furry mattress. He smiled, sure there was nowhere and with no one he'd rather be. He scratched limply through the fur of Demoman's belly, mumbling a weak, "Good boy."

Demoman's belly rose and fell in short, harsh clenches as he laughed, a snuffling snicker escaping his inhuman muzzle. It jarred them both, tugging where they were still joined, making both gasp and whine in a mix of pleasure and discomfort. This only compounded the situation as they both began to laugh, their breathy, plaintive groans of anguish in concert carrying along the breeze into the cool night air.


End file.
